Light In Oblivion
by theslytherinrose
Summary: As the Wizarding World becomes aware of the Dark Lord's return, Narcissa struggles to understand what it means for her family and their future. Shortly after Lucius's imprisonment, she discovers that she's pregnant, and she begins to hate the one responsible for her separation from her husband and finds herself losing all loyalty she once had for the Dark Lord. (It's back. See A/N)
1. Alone

**Author's Note:** Hi everybody. I'm sorry it's been so long since I last existed on FFN. To make a long story short, my life has been too crazy to keep up with all of my commitments, and between graduate school (I have one more year until I get my master's in fiction), teaching, writing and publishing my own original fiction, and taking care of my elderly grandparents (my grandpa passed in March, so that's also complicated things, to put it lightly), I ran out of brain power to keep up with my fics. I'm very sorry for vanishing. With that said, I have missed these stories immensely, and I have decided to bring back _LIO _and some others, and I also have a new fic idea that I've been wanting to put down in words for a long time. So welcome back to my Malfoyverse, and please bear with me while I get things put in place. x

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**Chapter One: Alone**

"_I'll be home in no time. I won't let him keep me from you._"

The words repeated in a loop through Narcissa's mind, tormenting her. Lucius had spoken them hours ago, and she'd wanted to believe him. Now, as she sat at her dresser in the dying candlelight, staring at the half-empty glass of wine she'd left there to avoid spilling it while she'd been thoroughly distracted by his kiss, she was beginning to lose hope.

She'd been too frustrated to say anything when he'd apologized for having to leave her. She'd lain still and stared at the ceiling, refusing to let him see how upset she was as he'd kissed her once more and then pulled away to get dressed.

This war was supposed to be over.

It was supposed to have ended fifteen years ago. When the Dark Lord had fallen, Lucius and Narcissa had been able to return to their lives, though not without a bit of difficulty and a lot of political persuasion. Narcissa had never liked lying, but when it was necessary to protect the people she loved, she could do it as easily as slipping on a smile. Of course Lucius had only served the Dark Lord under the influence of the Imperius Curse. Of course the Ministry had nothing to fear.

These lies had ensured that he could remain with her, could remain _safe _and be around to watch Draco grow. After so long waiting and so many heartbreaking attempts at starting a family, they had finally been blessed with a son, and with the Dark Lord gone, they would be able to raise him together. Lucius had even managed to find work at the Ministry and expand his network of political connections.

Everything should've been _fine._

But it wasn't.

Narcissa had almost convinced herself that her family would continue to live in peace as Draco progressed in his schooling at Hogwarts. At the end of his fourth year, however, the Dark Lord had returned to demand the allegiance of everyone he'd left behind so long ago and make very clear his displeasure with those who had not, in his opinion, tried hard enough to find him. This included Lucius, whose denial of loyalty had not earned him favor. Over the next year, he had worked diligently to earn that favor back, and now, he was once again the Dark Lord's right-hand man.

The mission Lucius had departed on tonight was one Narcissa had known was coming for quite a while. The Dark Lord wanted to obtain a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, and he needed Harry Potter to retrieve it for him. Lucius was to lead the group of Death Eaters who would be waiting to ensure that Potter did as he was supposed to and that the plan succeeded. Even Narcissa had played a role in it, not that she embraced that knowledge. She tried hard not to think about what might happen to her cousin, now that she'd let slip how close Sirius was with Potter, which she'd heard from the elf Kreacher. Sirius had betrayed the Black family, yes, and Narcissa had yet to forgive him for abandoning her. As children, they'd played together, and when he'd started Hogwarts four years after she had, Narcissa had done her best to make her cousin feel safe and welcome at the school. He'd repaid her by falling in with a group of his fellow Gryffindors who had a particular distaste for anyone in Slytherin, and soon after, he'd chosen these people over his family.

Though she would never have admitted it to anyone but Lucius, Narcissa found she couldn't entirely blame Sirius for wanting a life apart from that offered by the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. If his parents had treated him anything like Narcissa's had treated her and her sisters, perhaps getting away from them had been the only way for Sirius to feel safe. Narcissa had barely endured her own; she'd thought wistfully of leaving home many times in her teenage years, but she'd held on. Then she'd had Lucius to run to, and everything had become exponentially better. He was her light in the darkness, and she was his.

If betraying the trust of the cousin who had betrayed hers would help to keep her husband in good standing with the man who often killed the followers who displeased him, Narcissa hadn't seen herself having much of a choice. She hoped Sirius would forgive her, but he was not her primary concern.

"Where are you?" she muttered, moving the wineglass over a centimeter with her fingertip and watching its contents ripple. Tonight was supposed to have been peaceful. Soon, Draco would be home from school for the summer holidays, and time alone with Lucius would be much more difficult to come by. Tonight, in an effort to take advantage of the time they did still have, Lucius had taken Narcissa to supper at her favorite restaurant, and then they'd returned home, where they'd been for less than an hour when he had received the summons to embark on his latest task.

Narcissa shivered. She was still wearing the dark red corset Lucius had bought her for her birthday in February as well as her undergarments and little else. After the second hour of waiting, she'd pulled on a white satin robe, as the candles hadn't been nearly enough to keep her warm.

"_I won't let him keep me from you._"

_Could you ever stop him from doing that? _she asked Lucius mentally. She knew he meant every promise he made to her, and she appreciated that more than she knew how to express. She'd been lied to and manipulated by everyone from her own parents to people she'd believed were her friends over the years, but not by Lucius. The only lies he told her were ones of omission when he knew she didn't really want to know what he had been doing with the Death Eaters and the occasional, mostly harmless "_I'm fine, really_" that he knew better than to think she would actually believe and would eventually admit was false, allowing her to assess and treat his injuries. Apart from that, he was always sincere with her. She knew he'd wanted to spend the evening in her arms, and she'd seen in his eyes that he'd been as reluctant to leave as she had been to let him go.

"I should've said something," she breathed now, shaking her head as she watched the candle sitting beside her hairbrush flicker out, darkening the room as only a few were left burning. "It wasn't your fault."

She never let him leave without assuring him that she would be waiting, ready to welcome him home and bombard him with questions about his well-being. She always said "_I love you_" too many times as he left, wanting to make sure he knew—to make sure he didn't think she blamed him for having to go and that no matter what he did while he was gone, nothing would change. She would love him just the same. This time, she'd said the words, but they'd been so quiet that she wasn't certain if he'd heard them on his way out the door while she'd been fighting hard to keep herself together. Otherwise, she hadn't said a word after his Mark had begun to burn.

_He knows it's not him I'm angry with. He has to. …Right? _

She'd told him as much hundreds of times, had assured him endlessly that she knew that whatever reasons had motivated him to join the Dark Lord in the first place, it was no longer a matter of choice to serve. Lucius had been happy with the life he'd had while the Dark Lord was gone—with just himself and her and Draco and whatever they chose to make of themselves. Narcissa knew he wouldn't have traded it in for a renewed contract of servitude and the constant threat of danger and death if he'd seen another option.

The familiar roar of flames sounded from downstairs.

Her heart leaping into her throat, Narcissa stood so quickly she knocked her chair to the carpet. She left it lying there and quickly tied the sash of her robe, hurrying out the bedroom door and down the corridor.

"You had me so worried," she called as she descended the steps, nearly tripping over her bare feet in her rush. The Manor was dark apart from a few scattered lanterns still soldiering on, but the moment she caught sight of the figure standing beside the fireplace in the foyer that had gone dormant again after being used for transportation, she recognized that the shape was not her husband's.

"Bella?" Narcissa breathed. Her sister stood staring into the empty fireplace, her dark hair in disarray and her posture tense. "What's happened? Where's Lucius?"

"He's not coming."

Narcissa froze. Her stomach turned sickeningly, and her body went rigid. "What?"

"He failed the Dark Lord." Bellatrix faced her sister at last, her lips set in a thin line. "He should've let me attack them, and if he had—"

"_What happened?_" Narcissa demanded, taking a step toward Bellatrix with fire in her eyes.

"He got himself arrested!" cried Bellatrix. "Along with the rest of them!"

A wave of conflicted emotions crashed hard over Narcissa, nearly knocking her to the marble floor. _Arrested._ For years, she'd dreaded hearing this. She'd been plagued by nightmares in which she awaited Lucius's return only to have Aurors show up at the door to inform her that they'd finally realized where his loyalty lay. The thought of Lucius in prison, in _Azkaban_, surrounded by dementors… it was enough to crush the air from Narcissa's lungs. She reached out for the nearest chair—the high-backed red one that was her husband's favorite—and gripped it tight to keep herself steady.

She'd always known this was a very real possibility. The thought had always lingered at the edge of her mind each time he'd walked out the door to do something for the Dark Lord, but somehow, she had always managed to keep herself from accepting it. Lucius would not allow himself to be captured, she'd told herself. Of course not.

Now that he had, she was torn between devastation and overwhelming, all-consuming relief. When Bellatrix had said he wasn't coming, arrest had not been the first thought to flit through Narcissa's mind. For a moment, she had been possessed by a terror unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. She had feared for Lucius's life on more occasions than she could count, but each of these times, he'd been the one to return to her. She'd seen that he was all right—often injured, but always in one piece—and her mind had been eased. This time, the wrong person had come home, and the words Bellatrix had used seemed to have been chosen specifically to give Narcissa the wrong impression.

Narcissa let out a long sigh, her hands tightening on the back of the chair as she stared at her sister. "Why are you here, Bella?"

"Someone needed to tell you." Bellatrix shrugged. "The Ministry is keeping them all in custody until the senten—"

"I mean, _why are you here and the rest are in custody?_" Narcissa pressed. She seldom raised her voice to Bellatrix, but her patience was wearing thin, her chest heaving as she fought to keep the words from coming out in a scream. "_Why are you here while my husband isn't?_"

"The Dark Lord saved me." Bellatrix's face was as haughty as it had ever been, but Narcissa thought she detected the edge of hurt in her sister's eyes at the question. "Lucius split us into groups and everything went all to hell, and after I killed Sirius, I followed—"

"After you _what_?" Narcissa felt as though she had been doused in cold water. There was no way she had heard that correctly. She knew her sister placed no value on the lives of most other people, but surely Bellatrix had her limits. Killing a family member was cold even for her.

The elder sister shrugged, her expression impassive. "Figured Dumbledore wouldn't like that, and it certainly got a rise out of that half-blood Potter."

"You… you killed our cousin." Narcissa didn't bother phrasing the words as a question. She realized she had been foolish to doubt Bellatrix capable of something like this. Of course she had done it. It was, she reasoned, more shocking that she hadn't done it sooner.

_Well, now Sirius can't forgive me. _

"Our _traitor_ of a cousin, let me remind you." Bellatrix stepped forward and reached for Narcissa's shoulder, and the younger witch shrugged out of her sister's grip with an unconcealed shudder. "And after I did, I tried to draw Potter away from his little friends and get him alone, and the Dark Lord arrived."

"And where was Lucius?"

"With the rest of them, fighting Dumbledore and his people."

"And you didn't go back? You didn't even _try_?"

"I didn't have the chance, Cissy!" Bellatrix threw up her hands. "The Dark Lord took me with him when he left! You think I stuck around to see them all get arrested? I only know what happened because we've a few connections in Fudge's office still and they reported to our master after it was all over."

"_Your_ master," snarled Narcissa.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Now isn't the time for you to disrespect him, Cissy. He's very unhappy."

"Let him come and find me, then, and we'll see which of us is unhappier." In theory, Narcissa knew speaking of the Dark Lord like this to Bellatrix was probably one of the worst ideas she'd had in recent memory, but she didn't care. The man had once again found a way to tear her life apart, just when she'd almost believed things would be all right.

"I'm going to pretend," said Bellatrix slowly, "that I'm not hearing any of this. For your sake. But you need to know that the Dark Lord believes Lucius is at fault for this. He was supposed to lead us to the prophecy and ensure that we retrieved it."

"You said 'Dumbledore's people.' Are you talking about the Order?"

"I thought they were gone, but it seemed like—"

Narcissa cut her sister off. "And the Dark Lord expected Lucius to be able to stop all of them?" She laughed coldly. "Probably outnumbered and with no warning that Dumbledore himself would be part of the fight? That's lunacy."

"I should've been in charge." Bellatrix's nostrils flared, and she folded her arms over her chest. "I wouldn't have let this happen."

The Manor was silent for several moments as Narcissa stared at her sister, her eyes narrowed venomously. When she spoke at last, her voice was firm.

"Get out."

Bellatrix blinked. "And go where? They got Rodolphus, too, and the Dark Lord doesn't particularly want me to—"

"I don't _care_ right now, Bella. If you're going to speak ill of my husband, I want you out of my house."

Bellatrix's jaw tightened. She stood still for a few seconds, looking as though she wanted either to say something biting or fire some sort of curse, but then she turned on her heel and strode out the front door, slamming it behind her without another word.

Trembling, Narcissa made her way around the chair to drop into it slowly, drawing her knees up to her chest and staring into the empty fireplace as she began to weep. She would not accept this. She would make her way to the Ministry at first light and plead her case and do whatever she had to in order to ensure her husband's freedom.

Until then, she knew she would be able to do little more than sit here and scream at herself in her mind for not speaking more loudly when she'd said "_I love you_" as he left—for not being completely sure that he'd heard her.


	2. Resistance

**Chapter Two: Resistance**

"I apologize, Lady Malfoy, but there's nothing we can do. Minister's orders."

Narcissa hadn't bothered attempting to sleep. She'd known it would be useless to do so, and instead, she'd spent her time preparing to face the Aurors. She'd studied more than her fair share of Wizarding law and politics over the years, whether by choice or by accident as Lucius had ranted to her about work and its frustrations, and she'd believed she was prepared to argue her way out of whatever excuse the Ministry tried to give her. Instead, they'd refuted her assertions that they were holding Lucius illegally and told her Minister Fudge had far more important things to deal with in the wake of the Ministry invasion than dealing with her complaints.

Lucius had always told her Fudge was an idiot, and now she found herself agreeing wholeheartedly. Fudge had seemed incompetent before, and Narcissa had often been of the mind that in his position advising the Minister, Lucius had been more in charge of things than had the other man. She'd hoped that the time the two had spent together and the willingness Lucius had always shown to assist Fudge and donate to whatever cause the Minister wished him to support would be worth _something_ when it came down to drawing lines of loyalty. Now, as she stood shivering through layers of clothing within the stone walls of the prison she'd taken a boat to reach, it was clear that she'd placed too much faith in the system. She would not make that mistake again.

"This is _illegal_," Narcissa asserted, glaring at the pair of Aurors blocking her path. "By our laws, until you've proven my husband guilty of something, you have no right to keep me from seeing him!"

"Minister Fudge believes this attack warrants an exception, considering your husband was in the company of several prisoners who escaped Azkaban recently after being convicted of some fairly heavy crimes. And, you know, wearing the robes of a Death Eater after breaking in to the bloody Ministry." The Auror watched her with narrowed eyes. Though he was at least half a foot taller than she, Narcissa returned his glare full-force and kept her chin raised in defiance.

"Regardless of what proof you think you have," she said, her voice cold, "it is not enough to give you permission to violate our rights or to speak to me in that way." She'd spent the morning arguing with low-level Ministry personnel and the afternoon talking her way through their ranks only to be denied an audience with Fudge and told to take up her grievance with the Auror Office. They'd only laughed at her, and so she'd made her way to Azkaban, planning to continue pestering whoever would listen until she made some sort of progress.

"I've tried telling you politely, but you insist on pressing the matter." The Auror folded his arms over his chest, taking a step toward his companion. "There's nothing I can do, and to be frank, considering the trouble your husband gave us getting here, I don't think I would even if I could. He's dangerous."

A vicious surge of pride and satisfaction swept through Narcissa at the idea of Lucius giving the Aurors difficulty. In her estimation, they more than deserved it, for what they'd done to him. Narcissa knew, deep down far enough that she was often able to convince herself that she didn't, that she couldn't deny the crimes Lucius had committed. She knew it was the Aurors' job to put a stop to dark magic, but that didn't give them the right to be unnecessarily antagonistic, and in all honesty, she didn't care that they were doing what they were paid to do. All she cared about at the moment was Lucius, and these people were keeping her from him, which was unacceptable.

Lucius was 'dangerous,' the Auror had said. Narcissa had half a mind to show the man 'dangerous,' if he said another word against her husband. She'd taken all she could stand from Bellatrix, and the stress of the situation combined with her lack of sleep and her agitation at herself for the way she'd acted the previous night had combined to utterly destroy her patience.

She opened her mouth to protest further, but she stopped cold when her attention was arrested by the sound of voices from down the corridor. She caught sight of a group of Aurors surrounding a smaller group clad in stripes, and behind these men and women hovered a pair of dementors.

Narcissa had started toward them before her mind had fully processed her decision to move. She didn't know exactly what she expected to find—even if Lucius was among the prisoners, she couldn't hope to get to him without interference from the guards or, at worst, the dementors. Still, she knew she had to try. She had to do _something_, and if trying to reach him through a security detail was her only option, she thought, then so be it.

She ignored the shouts and footsteps from behind her—"You can't go that way!" "Get back here!"—and hurried forward. None of the faces of the Aurors were familiar, and the first person she caught sight of wearing the dull, oppressive prison colors was Travers, who met her gaze and nodded subtly to the side as the group's location and Narcissa's converged. She followed the gesture and shifted on her path, approaching from the other side and pretending not to notice the agitated cries of the guards both in front of and behind her.

_I don't care. I don't care what they do to me. I need to see him. _

And there he was, the robes she'd last seen him in stripped away in favor of the Azkaban uniform that looked indescribably uncomfortable and the smile he'd tried to give her as an apology as he'd left nowhere to be found. His gaze was hard and pointed forward.

"_Lucius!_"

He turned his head toward her, his grey eyes widening as he caught sight of her, and whatever compliance he'd shown to the Aurors evaporated. He pushed forward as she broke into a run, paying no mind to anyone or anything else and throwing her arms around his neck the instant she reached him.

"I'm so sorry," said Lucius, pulling her to him tightly and pressing his face to her hair. "They wouldn't let me contact you or—"

"This is not your fault." Narcissa shook her head hard as tears began to slip down her cheeks. "They're mad. They can't do this."

A hand closed around her arm and pulled her roughly backward, but still she held on, refusing to loosen her grip on her husband. She saw that several of the Aurors had now directed her attention to him and were attempting to pry the pair apart, but Lucius continued to struggle against them.

"They've already decided we're guilty," he said, shooting a poisonous look at one of the people who sought to pull him away before returning his focus to Narcissa.

"I'll get you out of here—I'll—I'll find a way." A second hand gripped her waist and pulled her back, and though she put the entirety of her weight into resisting, she knew she wouldn't be able to for long.

"Get yourself out of here!" Lucius glanced to the dementors, which had begun to glide forward to assist the human guards, and when his eyes returned to his wife's, they were panicked for the first time she could recall in years. "It's not safe. Protect Draco, Cissy, and protect yourself. I'll be fine." As one of the Aurors gave a particularly forceful pull, one of Lucius's hands slipped from Narcissa's waist, and she lost her grip on his shoulders. When he turned his head to snarl at the Auror, she noticed a dark marking along his neck that hadn't been there the previous night, and her stomach turned. After less than a day here, they had marked him. A series of numbers and letters was emblazoned on his pale skin, and suddenly, the urge to strike one of the people pulling at either of them rushed over Narcissa.

"I will," she called over the rising shouts of the people around her. A few of the other Death Eaters had seized the opportunity to attempt to fight their way out, and jets of light had begun to ricochet down the stone corridor. "Lucius, I'm—I'm so sorry I got angry with you, I know you couldn't help—"

"_Enough!_"

The pair of Aurors restraining Narcissa lifted her from the ground in their effort to pull her backward, and she let out a frustrated cry, her feet seeking the floor unsuccessfully as they dragged her in the opposite direction their counterparts had begun to drag Lucius.

"I love you!" she shouted, and when she heard the words echo back across the space between them, she stopped resisting her captors and began to sob.

She was escorted back to the entrance, the Aurors continuing to glare at her as they stopped walking.

"Can we trust you not to cause any more disruptions?"

"Yes," she snapped. "Let go of me."

She sniffed as they did so, torn between regretting allowing herself such a show of emotion in front of these people and regretting not moving for her wand while she'd had the chance. Narcissa had never been a violent woman. Unlike her husband and her sister, she'd always preferred to solve her problems with words instead of with curses, but words, it seemed, would get her nowhere, now.

"Your transportation is outside," said one of the Aurors, glancing pointedly to the doors behind where Narcissa stood. "I'd suggest leaving quickly; the storm's supposed to get worse."

She sighed heavily and turned away, pushing open the doors and stepping out onto the dock as she raised her hood to shield her face from the rain that had begun to pelt the surrounding area while she'd been inside. She climbed into the boat she'd used to reach the prison and cast a final glance up at the walls separating her from her husband, mentally cursing each and every person responsible for what she felt was an incredible injustice.

Holding tight to the edge of the boat with one hand, Narcissa raised her wand with the other and flicked her wrist, and the boat began its course toward the shore. As a wave of nausea rolled over her, Narcissa closed her eyes, telling herself it was only seasickness. She didn't imagine she could endure another complication.


	3. Numb

**Chapter Three: Numb**

Narcissa sat in the plush white chair she always chose when visiting the home of her sister-in-law, the warmth of the fire beside her not enough to completely chase away the chill that had soaked through her along with the rain. She'd wrapped herself in a blanket borrowed from Lucius's sister Lara, who was his junior by two years and Narcissa's by one, and accepted with a quiet word of thanks the cup of tea Lara passed to her before taking the seat to Narcissa's right.

"I can't believe you went out there alone," said Lara, shaking her head. Her eyes were the same grey as her brother's, and her blond hair was pulled back neatly enough to make Narcissa feel a bit disheveled in comparison, which didn't improve her mood. She'd looked impeccable when she'd left home that morning, as she'd hoped it might help to make her slightly more intimidating when facing the Aurors, but the storm had taken more out of her than she cared to admit. She was still trembling despite the heat off the cup in her hands, and her nausea had only multiplied when she'd returned to dry land. "It's unbelievably dangerous."

"I had to try. And I had to see him, even if it was just for a moment."

"How is he?"

"Angry. Rebellious." Narcissa sighed. "He resisted the guards, and I didn't exactly make it easy on them, either. It's ridiculous, Lara. The Ministry shouldn't be able to do this, and they've already—he's got a _tattoo_, Azkaban markings…" She trailed off, staring down into the ripples breaking over the surface of the tea in response to her shaking hands. Less than a day ago, Narcissa had been convinced that everything was normal. She'd believed that this was just another mission—that Lucius would be returning home and they would be able to go on with their lives, he awaiting the next task and she pretending not to be a bit curious about what he had needed to do in order to return to her. Instead, he was trapped in Azkaban surrounded by dementors and Aurors and she'd nearly drowned after trying to reach him.

"Did you see Mathias?" asked Lara.

Narcissa shook her head. "I'm sorry. Only a few of them were in the group I saw; the Aurors must be separating them."

Lara nodded slowly and took a sip of her own tea, frowning. "I was asleep, when he left. When I woke this morning and he wasn't back, I panicked. I didn't know what to do. Then one of Fudge's lackeys showed up on the doorstep to tell me he'd been arrested."

Narcissa's stomach twisted. She wondered briefly whether it was more due to Lara's words or the persistent uneasiness that didn't appear to be leaving her anytime soon, and she blew a light breath across the surface of her cup before taking a drink. Lara had married Mathias Mulciber shortly after Hogwarts, and the pair had two children, the eldest of whom was in the year below Draco in school.

"I wish they'd been able to owl us," Narcissa said after a moment. "I nearly went mad waiting up."

"Well, that's why I made a point to tell you."

Narcissa looked up at the sound of the voice from the doorway. Bellatrix stood watching her, the elder sister's expression guarded.

"The elf let me in," Bellatrix added to Lara. A moment later, the small creature in question bobbed into view, leaning around Bellatrix's skirt to fix its large eyes on Lara.

"She insisted, Mistress—Elly tried to—"

"No, it's fine." Lara raised her hand, and the elf glanced nervously from her to the dark-haired witch and back. "Tea, Bellatrix?"

"I'm not staying. I went to the Manor looking for you, Cissy, and when you weren't home, I thought you might be here."

Lara waved to dismiss the elf and shifted her focus to her tea with a raised brow, and Narcissa closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath she hoped would steady her.

"I haven't been for long," she said. "I went to try to negotiate with Fudge's people, and when that didn't work, I went to the prison myself. You…" She paused, forcing herself to choose her words carefully. She knew Bellatrix hadn't exactly chosen to be the sole Death Eater who'd escaped punishment, and though she was severely unapologetic about it, Narcissa reminded herself that this was nothing new, for her sister. She'd been dragged into countless arguments between Bellatrix and Lucius over the years, and she believed if it weren't for her own sake and the backlash it would've surely brought from the Dark Lord, one of them would've maimed the other by now. Bellatrix was also incredibly devoted to her master—_to put it lightly, _thought Narcissa—and unwilling to accept failure in his eyes, and regardless of what had really happened, Narcissa was unsurprised by her sister's eagerness to find someone to blame. "You should consider yourself lucky," she said at last. "Everyone else is in a lot worse shape than you are, right now."

"They're safer, where they are." Bellatrix started forward, folding her arms and glancing around the room at the portraits and decorations and everything but her sister as she went on. "The Dark Lord is furious." She rubbed almost unconsciously at her arm beneath her sleeve, and Narcissa wondered whether the Dark Lord had taken out some of that fury on her sister. "He says his plans have to change, now, and he's going to need to start recruiting, with eleven of us unable to assist him."

Narcissa took a long drink from her tea cup, biting back the urge to tell Bellatrix exactly how little she cared about what the Dark Lord did to replace the incarcerated Death Eaters and how much more logical and beneficial to everyone involved it would be if he were to focus instead on _freeing _them. Thankfully, Lara spoke before the silence became long enough to draw suspicion as to Narcissa's dangerous line of thought.

"They may not be there long. The man the Ministry sent to tell me this morning said they're scheduled for trial within the next few weeks. Surely there's something we can—"

Bellatrix laughed scathingly, shaking her head as her lips twisted upward. "You're still so naïve, Lara," she said, her tone condescending. "You don't think the Ministry's already written their verdict?"

Lara frowned and shifted her focus from Bellatrix to the floor between them, her hands tightening on her teacup. "Narcissa did say they'd already given Lucius a prison tattoo."

Narcissa let out a frustrated noise, lowering her drink to rest on her knee so quickly it nearly spilled and letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. "Does anyone have anything productive to offer to this conversation? Because if not, I think I've had enough."

"I was looking for you," said Bellatrix, her eyes shifting to Narcissa, "to ask if I could stay with you for a few days. I've a feeling your place will be at least a bit safer than mine, considering I've already broken out once and they'll be looking for me to try to save everyone else."

_Oh, if only they knew you,_ thought Narcissa bitterly. She loved her sister; since their childhood, Bellatrix had been one of a very slim number of people Narcissa had always known she could trust, and she knew that if she herself were in danger, Bellatrix would not hesitate to aid her. Narcissa questioned the truth of this only if the Dark Lord had expressly forbidden it, and in the present situation, she believed the punishment Bellatrix would likely incur for aiding those with whom her master was apparently livid would be more than enough to stop her from trying to intervene.

"Yes, Bella." The irritation had drained from Narcissa's tone as quickly as it had entered. She was too exhausted to devote more energy to trying to persuade her sister to feel guilt, and she did want to help, though she doubted how safe Malfoy Manor would be from Ministry investigation, in the coming weeks. "You can stay with me. Go and get your things, if you like, and I'll be home shortly."

"Thank you," Bellatrix muttered. She moved close enough to squeeze Narcissa's shoulder and gave Lara a nod before striding out the doorway through which she'd entered.

"She's as pleasant as ever," said Lara when Bellatrix had gone.

"I want to do what I can for her, but I can't endure her placing the blame for all this on Lucius."

"Is she really?"

Narcissa glanced down at her cup to find that she'd emptied it without realizing, and she shifted it to the table beside her. "That's what she said when she came by after midnight to tell me what had happened. I'm sorry—if I'd been in the right state of mind and realized no one would tell you, I would've come over sooner."

Lara shook her head, her gaze sympathetic. "I can't imagine anyone being in the right state of mind, after the kind of news we've gotten." She paused. "I couldn't make myself read the _Prophet_, today—I imagine it's everywhere, by now. And I'm sure the children have heard." She rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and dropped her head into her hand, and Narcissa stared at her, eyes widening in horror.

"I haven't written Draco," she said, the words leaving her lips before she could stop herself from letting her worries into the outside world. "He'll have heard about it from everyone but me, and he's bound to be devastated, and—"

"_Narcissa._" Lara reached out to rest her hand on Narcissa's over the table between them, shaking her head firmly. "Draco will understand that you've been doing everything you can to fix this and get his father set free. He won't be angry with you."

Narcissa slid out of the chair and to her feet, squeezing Lara's hand apologetically before releasing it. "I need to get home and send him an owl. It's too late to reach him in the Great Hall, but maybe if I—"

She broke off as another wave of nausea overwhelmed her, this one much more powerful than the last. She glanced around the room in a panic and hurried for the wastepaper basket sitting beside the wall, mentally screaming at herself for this lapse in decorum as she was unable to stop herself from becoming violently ill. Lara hurried to her side, resting a hand on her back until Narcissa eventually lowered the basket, her face pale.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be ridiculous. Are you all right?"

Narcissa shrugged noncommittally. "I've just been feeling ill since I was at the prison. I thought I was seasick, but it's been a little too long for that, now."

"Did you eat something that could've caused it?" asked Lara.

"I…" Narcissa paused, shifting her eyes to the floor as she recalled that she hadn't eaten anything since she'd forced down a piece of toast before leaving home, as though she'd been too distraught to be hungry, she hadn't known when she would be returning and had believed she should make an attempt. "No, I haven't eaten since breakfast. It doesn't feel like food poisoning, anyway. In fact, I haven't felt like this since—" She froze, eyes wide as she stared forward without seeing the room around her. That was absurd. Yes, the feeling reminded her quite a bit of morning sickness, but that wasn't a reasonable diagnosis, was it? After all… after the amount of attempts it had taken her and Lucius to have Draco, with how much difficulty Narcissa had in becoming pregnant—not to mention her difficulty in carrying to term—what were the odds that it had now happened accidentally?

"You're not thinking—"

"I don't know," Narcissa said quickly, looking to Lara, who was watching her with raised brows and an open mouth. _It's certainly possible, yes, _she thought, _but jumping to conclusions isn't going to help any_—

"When was the last time—?"

"_Lara._"

"I was going to ask if you'd missed—"

"_Please_, just let me think." Narcissa racked her memory for the answers to the question she hadn't let Lara ask, and had she still possessed any color in her cheeks, it would've drained away as she realized that the conclusion to which she'd jumped was indeed a very plausible one. "Yes," she said at last. "I did. I… I'm… I can't be, not right now." Tears stung her eyes as the injustice of the situation crashed down on her as though it were made of lead. "Not while Lucius is gone."

"Cissy, this is a wonderful thing," said Lara, resting her hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "And I still don't think they'll be able to keep him for long. You need to try to believe that."

Narcissa nodded slowly, wishing that believing in anything ending positively was as easy as it had been before the return of the Dark Lord.


	4. Homecoming

**Chapter Four: Homecoming**

"Can I bring you anything? Is your tea all right? If it isn't hot enough, I can—"

"Mother. It's okay. Really."

Narcissa bit her lip as she watched the pale and drawn face of her son, whom she sat beside on a green chaise in Malfoy Manor's lounge. The grounds were dark, as she could see in her periphery through the full-length window behind Draco, apart from a small spot of white in the form of a peacock strutting past the glass. Narcissa had spent the morning pacing the rooms and corridors of her home, running through hundreds of versions of the conversation she would have with Draco when he'd returned from Hogwarts. She hadn't been certain what piece of news would be the best with which to begin, and she'd practiced each of them in turn. _Draco, everything you've read in _The Daily Prophet _is true; yes, the Ministry has arrested your father, and the years we spent trying to convince the Wizarding World that we were finished with the Dark Lord have been for absolutely nothing, because now they have proof otherwise. I know the letter I sent you came after you'd already heard about it from everyone else, and I still haven't forgiven myself for that. Draco, your aunt managed not to get arrested, unlike everyone else involved, and she's decided to blame your father for everything. She's also staying with us. Draco, I'm pregnant. I'm just as surprised as you are. _

For the moment, she said none of this aloud. Now that he was here in her presence, safe at home and away from what she could only imagine had been a tortuous term's end surrounded by the judgment and censure of his schoolmates, she was in no hurry to upset him. Perhaps she could delay the inevitable for a few moments longer.

"How are you?"

She felt her cheeks flush as soon as she'd spoken the words, and she looked away from her son's face and down at her own folded hands in her lap in her embarrassment. She knew the question had been a stupid one. There was no way he could be well, with everything that was happening, but he was still and would always be her little boy, whom she'd pulled into her arms after countless long and tiring days and held and told stories and assured that everything would be all right. Even when she knew his answer before he gave it, she would never be rid of the reflex to ask how he was feeling.

"I'm fine," said Draco. "Given the circumstances."

Narcissa looked up as Draco raised the tea to his lips and drank, his face blank. His tone had been equally well-controlled, and as she realized how hard he seemed to be trying to shut her out, she felt suddenly ill. He lowered the cup and shook his head, setting it on the table in front of the chaise.

"I can get you something else, if—"

"Mother, stop. Worrying about me isn't going to bring him back."

Narcissa froze with her mouth still open, staring at the boy who looked so very much like his father and who appeared to have spoken without thinking and immediately regret it, as he reached out to take her hand in his own.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't—I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, Mum."

He leaned over to embrace her, and Narcissa held to him tightly, choking back the tears that wanted to burst forth. She refused to cry in front of him. She had to remain strong, for both of them. For the baby, and for Lucius. A moment passed in which Narcissa and Draco remained still, and then he closed his eyes, lowering his head a bit to rest it on his mother's shoulder.

"I've just been surrounded by fools at school, and every other word out of someone's mouth has been something against Father or you or me, and it's driving me mad. And then there's _Potter_, walking around like he's some great hero for what he did, and it's infuriating. He gets to talk about it all like he's our savior for telling everyone the Dark Lord's returned. It's his fault—he's the one who got Father and the rest of them sent to Azkaban, and who're the rest of the students going to side with, really? Me or Dumbledore's pet?"

"Hush, now." Narcissa closed her eyes, her arms tightening around Draco and one of her hands moving upward to allow her to run her fingers through his white-blond hair, hoping to bring him some sort of comfort with the motion as she had when he'd been a child. Though he was barely sixteen, she thought he seemed so much older, though she knew that was probably because, like her, he had been worn down prematurely by the state of the world around him and the things he'd seen. As much as she wished it weren't true, she knew he had only just begun to see terrible things, and she would've traded anything to be able to shield him from how difficult life was about to become. "I'm so sorry you've had to face that," she said quietly. "It isn't fair for someone so young to be brought into all this."

"How old were you?"

Narcissa paused in her stroking of her son's hair, opening her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The first time the Dark Lord rose to power."

"I…"

She paused, frowning as she sought the words to explain. That period of history was one she had always tried to avoid discussing with Draco, as had Lucius. Naturally Draco had come to them with questions after hearing things at school or from other children whose parents had been involved, but Lucius and Narcissa had always believed that the less their son knew about what had transpired before his birth and in his infancy, the better it would be for him. There was no avoiding the truth, anymore, as she admitted to herself now. The Ministry would surely drag old evidence into play at Lucius's trial, and even if it didn't, rumors were sure to reach Draco sooner or later.

"I was about your age," said Narcissa. She gave Draco a final squeeze and leaned back to meet his eyes as she spoke, shifting to hold his hand instead. "We were still in school, when the Dark Lord's power started growing strong enough for people to notice. Your father joined him before leaving Hogwarts, like a lot of them did. Your grandfather Abraxas was already involved. He'd known the Dark Lord for a long time—how long, I'm not sure—and he made sure your father knew everything he could teach about what the Dark Lord wanted and how much it would benefit our kind, if he was successful. Your father started training to fight over holidays and then going back to school, where people knew something was brewing but they weren't sure what it was. He didn't talk about it much, back then. Most of what I heard came from my sister Bella, though that wasn't much either, because she'd already moved out of our house, by that time."

"Why didn't you fight with them?" asked Draco.

Narcissa shrugged. "Fighting isn't for me. Now, I can argue circles around anyone—even your father, sometimes—and I did everything I could to help them without taking the Mark. I've studied so much healing magic I'm fairly certain I could be hired at St. Mungo's, and I've had to use it far too often for my liking. But I've never wanted to be out there wearing one of the masks. Besides, your father made it clear early on that it wasn't an option. 'I'm doing this for you,' he said, 'so that you don't have to. For you and for Draco, so that you'll be safe.'"

Draco let out a short breath and shook his head. "Safe," he repeated.

"That's what he thought, Draco. We all did. We thought that if the Dark Lord won, our kind wouldn't have to keep living in secrecy, afraid the Muggles would persecute us or worse and the traitors would help them. Your father thought he was doing what was best by trying to create a world where we wouldn't have to hide. After the Dark Lord fell…" Narcissa sighed, running her thumb over the back of Draco's hand. "Most everyone else went to Azkaban, and we decided to tell the Ministry we'd acted against our will. Now they know that wasn't true, and I'm not sure what they're going to do about it."

Draco paused, frowning as he stared at a spot on the lush, dark green carpet. "Is there no hope, then?" he asked after a moment. "At the trial?"

"Of course there's hope." Narcissa squeezed Draco's hand and tried to give him a reassuring smile as he returned his focus to her, though she felt the expression was much less effective than she'd hoped when his own did not change. "We'll think of something. I don't care who I have to pay—" _or threaten, _she added mentally, "—but I refuse to take this sitting down."

Draco nodded, watching her levelly. For a moment, Narcissa wondered whether he believed she truly had any ability to change the Ministry's mind, but then she decided she would rather not know the answer.

"Now, there are some other things I need to tell you, now that you're home."

Draco hesitated. "I don't know how much more bad news I can handle."

"It's not bad… exactly. Well, I suppose you can be the judge of that." Narcissa drew in a deep breath, her shoulders lifting to make her appear closer to Draco's height for a moment before lowering as she exhaled and returning her to her normal size. "Aunt Bella's staying with us, for a little while. I know the two of you haven't had much of a chance to bond, as she's been in prison since you were very young. It's going to be a bit of an adjustment. You should know that she's very… open about her opinions, to put it lightly, and I want you to remember not to take anything she says about your father to heart. All right?"

"That sounds promising," Draco said flatly. "Should I be expecting her to say something?"

"I don't know if she will, around you, but it wouldn't surprise me in the least."

"Is that all, then? I think I'll be able to handle Aunt Bella."

_Easy to say without knowing her. And… here it is, _thought Narcissa, the anxiety she'd successfully fought back returning once again as she knew it was time at last.

"There's one more thing. Draco… I'm pregnant."

He stared at her, his expression uncomprehending. "What?"

"I've only just found out, and your father doesn't know, yet. The only one who does is Aunt Lara, other than you."

"You…" Draco struggled for words for several moments, frowning. "Now?" he asked at last. "Of all times?"

"It isn't like we _planned _it, or for any of this to happen." Narcissa stared at her son, feeling increasingly like the situation was an overturned bowl of water that she was attempting to keep from running through her fingers. "I thought you'd always wanted a little brother or sister, anyway."

"And now I'm too old to grow up with him or her, and Father's…" Draco closed his eyes. A moment of silence passed between them, during which Narcissa wanted nothing more than to run into the middle of an empty field and scream until her lungs ached. Eventually, Draco opened his eyes again, squeezing her hand. "I do want a sibling. I'm happy about this, I really am. It's all just a lot to process."

"I know," said Narcissa, breathing a bit more easily after Draco's words. She wasn't certain she would've been able to handle it, if he'd gotten angry with her. "And I'm sorry to dump it all on you at once."

"You can't exactly help it—it's all happening."

"Yes, it is. Come here." She leaned forward to embrace him again, and as his arms wound around her, she felt him sigh. "No matter what's going to happen, we're facing it together, all right?"

"Yeah. And they won't keep Father forever."

"Of course not." Narcissa had to believe that. Anything else was unacceptable. "I love you, Draco."

"I love you, too."

Narcissa closed her eyes and held her son tighter, willing the rest of the world to give their family peace for just a while longer.


	5. Family Ties

**Chapter Five: Family Ties**

_Just relax. Everything is going to be perfectly fine. _

Narcissa didn't believe the words no matter how she tried to convince herself that they were true, but that didn't stop her from repeating them in her mind as she sat beside her son at the dining room table. She tried hard not to glance at the empty seat on her left, at the head of the table, no matter how strong the urge to do so became. It was habit, she knew, and one that she would have to suppress until the seat was filled again, if she didn't want to worsen the pain.

"So, is… _everything _they say about Aunt Bella true?"

Narcissa turned her head to face her son, who sat on her right. The rest of the dark wooden chairs surrounding the long, ornate table were unoccupied, though the place directly across from Narcissa had been made up for Bellatrix, who was running several minutes late.

An instant passed in which Narcissa debated lying. She didn't want to encourage her son to hate his aunt before they'd had the chance to properly meet, but she knew if he didn't hear the truth from her, he was still likely to hear it from Bellatrix, who took too much pride in her exploits for the Dark Lord not to brag about them, presumably even to her sixteen-year-old nephew.

"Probably so," Narcissa admitted, picking at the corner of the napkin she'd rested in her lap. "But please don't let that ruin your view of her completely. She really does love us."

"She loves you," said Draco with a shrug. "She doesn't know me."

"She did when you were very young." Narcissa reached out to squeeze Draco's hand before returning her own to her lap. "Too young to remember."

"And she's been in Azkaban since then?"

Narcissa nodded, and Draco let out a sigh.

"You know," he said, "for everything wonderful I've heard about your side of the family—the Noble House of Black, everyone always says—I know very few of them."

"There _are_ very few of them, Draco," Narcissa said quietly. Her thoughts drifted to her childhood, when she'd lived with her parents and two sisters and spent holidays with cousins who were now dead. A few distant relatives remained, but no one she believed would be a particularly good influence on her son or the child now growing within her.

Narcissa and Draco sat in silence for several moments, and then the door to the kitchens opened, a rather small house-elf bobbing into the room.

"Is Mistress ready for Prim to bring out breakfast?" the elf squeaked.

"Not yet," said Narcissa, glancing to the plate left out for Bellatrix with a sigh. "Just a few more minutes, Prim. She'll be here, I'm sure."

"Yes, Mistress." The elf nodded hastily and turned for the door again, but she'd only taken a few steps when Bellatrix swept into the dining room through the double-doors connected to the corridor outside. Bellatrix scowled as she caught sight of the elf and then looked to the table, her dark eyes narrowing.

"Why isn't the food out yet?" she demanded. "Go and get it, you useless—"

"Bella," said Narcissa evenly, "I told her to wait for you. I thought we'd planned on eating at nine?"

Prim scurried back into the kitchens, and Bellatrix turned her gaze on her sister.

"I must've overslept," she said with a shrug. "Is that the same elf you had before?"

"No." Narcissa fidgeted with her wedding ring while waiting for her sister to sit, offering no further explanation on the absence of Dobby and hoping Bellatrix chose not to pry.

Bellatrix shrugged and strode lazily toward the table. She brushed past the seat reserved for her and slipped instead into the vacant one beside Narcissa, who watched her with an abject horror to which Bellatrix was either oblivious or uncaring. Draco, on the other hand, found his voice.

"That's Father's seat," he said sharply.

"Yes, well, I doubt he's worried about it, right now."

Narcissa closed her eyes and forced a deep breath into her lungs. Losing her temper would do precious little for anyone, at the moment.

"You look even more like him now than you did the last time I saw you," said Bellatrix. Narcissa opened her eyes at the sound of a plate scraping across the table, and she found her sister shifting each of the items that had been arranged for her at the ignored seat into place at the one she had chosen. "I'd hoped you'd get some of our side's coloration, but no such luck."

"I'd say the odds were against it," said Draco, his voice hot with irritation. "Maybe you'll have better luck with the next niece or nephew."

Narcissa looked to her son, her mouth falling open. "Draco!" She hadn't been prepared to give Bellatrix the news. She realized a moment too late that if she hadn't reacted, Draco's comment could've been passed off as hypothetical, and her cheeks burned.

"Cissy?"

Narcissa shifted her focus slowly back to her sister, who was watching her with both dark brows raised and the fork in her hand halfway to her plate in its path across the table.

"Yes, Bella. I've just found out I'm expecting."

A beat of silence passed, and then Bellatrix cackled. "Brilliant. Then I'll get to help this one learn to fight properly. I wanted to teach you, Draco, but circumstances…" She dragged the fork the remainder of the way toward her plate, and Narcissa cringed when the utensil scratched against the wood, leaving tiny marks in its wake. "Does your husband know?" Bellatrix asked, looking to Narcissa.

"Not yet."

The door swung open once again, and the elf bustled into the dining room, balancing plates of pastries, toast, bacon, sausage, and assorted other foods. Narcissa hadn't been certain what her sister would want, and so she'd requested a variety. Now, she found herself wishing she hadn't been quite so accommodating, but she pushed the thought away. Prim set the plates down and rushed back into the kitchens, returning moments later with a pitcher of water, with which she filled the goblets belonging to each person.

"Can Prim do more, Mistress?" the elf squeaked.

"No, thank you. We'll call you if we need anything else."

The elf bowed deeply and departed, the door swinging shut behind her. Bellatrix clicked her tongue.

"You're far too soft with it, Cissy."

"I ask her for what I need, and I see no point in being unnecessarily rude." Narcissa lifted her goblet to her lips and took a long drink of water, aware that she was holding on too tightly and that her knuckles were turning white but not caring. "Merlin knows we've made enough enemies," she said as she set the goblet down at last and returned her focus to her sister. "We don't need to go around making more just because we're having a bad day."

"You can't make an enemy of an elf," said Bellatrix, and Narcissa received the distinct impression from her sister's tone that Bellatrix believed she was lecturing a small child. "Its loyalty is to you. It doesn't have a choice."

"I've a feeling Kreacher would see things differently," said Narcissa coldly, shifting a pastry onto her plate as she narrowed her eyes at Bellatrix, "or have you forgotten that he's the one who told you what you needed to know to get his master killed?"

"Told _us_." Bellatrix stabbed a piece of sausage much harder than necessary with her fork. "Or have you forgotten? I'll take most of the credit—I did kill Sirius—but that elf did most of its talking to you, Narcissa."

Saying nothing, Narcissa took a bite of pastry, though she found it tasted much less appetizing than she'd hoped, with these thoughts dripping through her mind.

"You don't have to get quiet," said Bellatrix, reaching out to squeeze her sister's arm. "I'm proud of you. It's about time you got those hands of yours dirty."

Draco coughed, and Narcissa shrugged off Bellatrix's hand before looking to him.

"Why don't you tell your aunt how well you've done in school, love?"

_Get her to focus on something that doesn't make me want to retch, _Narcissa thought. The last thing she'd needed was to have guilt for Sirius's death dumped on her when she was already worried about too many other things to count. She wasn't sure what she found more sickening—the fact that she hadn't realized sooner how dirty her hands were in the matter of her cousin's death or the fact that she knew Bellatrix was completely sincere about being proud of her for her involvement, however inadvertent it had been.

Draco shrugged, taking a bite of bacon without looking up from his plate. "I made Prefect."

"Ah. I expect that made your parents proud," said Bellatrix. She glanced to Narcissa, who gathered from Bellatrix's expression that she both believed she was playing nicely and should be commended for it, and then back to Draco. "Each of them was Head—separate years, naturally."

"They told me." Draco continued eating, his focus remaining on his plate and deliberately away from his aunt.

"Bet they didn't tell you which rules they still broke."

"Oh, give it a _rest_, Bella! Please!" Narcissa rolled her eyes and pushed her plate back several inches, finding her desire to eat severely diminished. "I'm trying hard not to be a completely dreadful influence on him, and in five minutes, you've already tried to bring up things I don't want to discuss and taken it upon yourself to teach both Draco and my unborn child how to fight. Is there anything else?"

Bellatrix drummed her fingers against the table and shrugged. "I was building up to it."

Narcissa's throat went dry. "What?"

"The Dark Lord wants to speak to Draco."

This, at last, captured the boy's attention. He looked to Bellatrix with wide eyes, and Narcissa's pulse began to accelerate. _What could he possibly want with Draco? _she thought. _Why can't he just leave us alone? _

"Why?" Draco asked. "Why me?"

"I believe he has a task for you," said Bellatrix, "but I'm not completely certain."

_No. No no no. This can't be happening. _

"A task?" repeated Draco. "Like… for the Death Eaters?"

Bellatrix nodded, her lips curling into a smirk. "Would you like that?"

"To join you—them? Like Father? I… of course. I'd be honored."

"Draco," said Narcissa quietly, shaking her head. She knew already that the argument was lost. Draco wanted to hear whatever the Dark Lord had to say, and arguing with what the Dark Lord wanted would only end in disaster. But even though the point was useless, Narcissa couldn't stop herself from protesting. "Love, you're so young…"

"But what if he thinks I'm ready?" The agitation the boy had shown moments before had dissipated, replaced instead by a fierce, determined excitement and a liveliness that Narcissa hadn't seen him show since he'd returned from Hogwarts. "What if I could impress him? Do you think he'd help us get Father out of Azkaban?"

Narcissa's heart ached. She opened her mouth to tell her son that no, she doubted the Dark Lord had any desire whatsoever to be of assistance on that front, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. She couldn't disappoint him.

She was spared the need by Bellatrix, who clapped her hands together.

"I'm so glad to hear it, Draco," she said. "I don't know when he'll speak with you, but it will be soon. I'm sure you'll make us all proud."

"Please excuse me."

Narcissa pushed her chair back and started from the room without another word or another glance at anyone. She couldn't bear to look at Bellatrix, and if she looked at Draco, she feared she would lose her grip and beg him to say he'd changed his mind. She hurried down the corridor and made her way up the stairs and to her chambers, where she closed the doors behind her and flung herself down onto the bed. She ran her fingertips over the gold silken sheets and pressed her face to the pillows on the side on which she never slept, breathing in the scent of cologne that still lingered on them.

* * *

"_I can't believe th__—they've taken her."_

_Narcissa held to Lucius's shoulders tightly enough that she was certain her fingernails had to be hurting him, but he didn't complain. He only stroked her hair with one hand and kept the other moving gently up and down her back as they lay beneath the canopy, he on his back and she with her head resting on his chest. _

"_I know, Cissy," he said quietly. "I know. It's awful."_

"_Isn't there something we can do? Can't you talk to—?"_

"_I've already talked to everyone who'll listen. I tried to suggest to the Minister and to the Wizengamot that your sister acted under the Imperius Curse, but her own testimony made it incredibly clear that she'd meant everything she'd done, and it very nearly took away all my credibility for trying to convince them otherwise."_

_Narcissa sighed, and Lucius paused in his stroking of her hair to wipe a tear from her cheek. _

"_I'm sorry," he said. "I wish there was more to be done." _

"_I do, too." Narcissa reached for her husband's hand and held to it tightly, bringing it to her lips. "Don't you ever leave me like that," she said. She attempted to sound stern, but she her voice cracked on the final syllable. _

_Lucius's arm tightened around her, and he stretched out the thumb of the hand she held to brush her cheek. "Never." _


	6. Life Sentence

**Chapter Six: Life Sentence**

Narcissa sat as straight as she could manage in her chair in the courtroom on Level Ten of the Ministry of Magic, her eyes fixed on the group standing at the room's heart. The small mass of chairs that had been allotted for use by the accused had since been shoved aside, as the number of prisoners was vastly greater than the number of chairs the Ministry had been prepared to provide. She kept her focus on Lucius—difficult to see though he was, hidden among the others awaiting their fate—and forced herself not to show the fear that coursed through her with every beat of her heart. He was watching her, as well, and she needed to remain strong.

She held tight to the hand of Draco, who sat beside her, unmoving. Narcissa hoped their presence would ease her husband's mind at least a little, but though his head was held high and his jaw was set firmly, she knew Lucius had to be terrified. The group of Death Eaters had been escorted into the courtroom by a small battalion of dementors, and Narcissa couldn't imagine how draining it must've been to be surrounded by those horrid creatures for the trip from Azkaban, let alone the strain caused by their constant presence outside the men's cells.

The image of Lucius trapped in a cold, dark cell passed through her mind, and she held tighter to Draco's hand, refusing to allow herself the shudder that tried to claim her.

"You have been brought before the Council of Magical Law," began Cornelius Fudge from his podium, "so that we may pass judgment on you." Narcissa's eyes flicked toward Fudge to glare at him with more hatred than she'd ever shown anyone. This man was supposed to be her husband's ally, his _friend_, and here Fudge sat, presiding over this farce of a trial. "You each stand accused of allying yourselves with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his 'Death Eaters.' Each of you is further accused of multiple additional crimes, including—but not limited to—torture, murder, and the use of Unforgivable Curses, as well as breaking into and attempting to rob the Ministry of Magic. For these crimes, the Wizengamot has deemed appropriate a life sentence in Azkaban Wizarding Prison."

Narcissa's blood ran cold. _No. This can't be happening. A life sentence? Surrounded by dementors? They can't possibly go through with it. It's positively inhumane. _She'd heard these words once before, when they'd been the judgment passed on her sister.

"Members of the jury, I ask that all in favor of a life sentence for each of the men standing before you to, please, raise your hands."

Narcissa kept her eyes on Lucius a moment longer to see his widen involuntarily in horror, and then each of them glanced to the jury to watch as every witch and wizard on the panel raised a hand. Her pulse racing to a sickening speed, Narcissa returned her gaze to her husband, whose face had drained completely of color.

"No," she breathed.

Fudge slammed his gavel down hard onto the podium, and the sound echoed through the courtroom like the harsh crack of thunder.

"Then it is done. Avery, Crabbe, Dolohov, Jugson, Lestrange, Lestrange, Malfoy, Macnair, Mulciber, Nott, Rookwood, and Travers—you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment."

A chill swept over the room as the dementors glided in once again, and Narcissa pushed herself to her feet, tears slipping down her cheeks as she watched the dark, wispy figures begin to surround the prisoners. She stood on her toes, stretching up as high as she could to keep Lucius in her sight despite the rows of people who had started to stand in front of her, their voices building to a clamor.

"Lucius—"

"Mum." Draco gave Narcissa's hand a slight pull. She saw him move closer in her periphery, but she had not yet removed her focus from his father, whom the dementors were leading toward the doors. "There's nothing we can do for him by causing a scene. It'll probably only make things worse."

She said nothing immediately. She only followed her husband with her eyes, watching him until he had been led with the others out the doors and out of her sight. Narcissa then lifted her free hand to wipe the moisture from her cheeks. She allowed her gaze to harden with the cold ire she felt toward everyone remaining in the room apart from the young man at her side. She squeezed her son's hand.

"Come on, Draco," she said. "Let's get out of this horrid place."

* * *

"Lucius?"

Narcissa had been standing outside the bars for several moments, watching him as he stared upward from the pitiful mattress he'd been given. She'd followed his gaze to the meticulously-carved tick-marks in the desolate, grey ceiling above him, and her heart ached. Four weeks had passed since he'd been home, and each day was recorded above the place he now slept.

He lifted his head at the sound of her voice, and the expression that dawned over his face suggested that he was looking into the light of the sun for the first time in years. He was on his feet in the span of a heartbeat, rushing toward the bars and slipping his hands through them to rest on either side of Narcissa's face. His hands were like ice against her cheeks, but she didn't care. Despite the hell surrounding him, Lucius smiled, and he pulled her softly forward until his lips could reach hers. The kiss began as gentle as the movement, but he could not long keep away the hunger. Kisses through prison bars were not enough, and as Narcissa returned this one just as passionately, she hoped Lucius understood now deeply she missed him, as well.

After a moment, Lucius drew back a bit reluctantly, and he stared instead into his wife's eyes. She tried to keep the severity of her worries from entering her expression, but when he spoke, she knew she had failed.

"What is it, Cissy?"

"I… there's something I need to tell you."

She reached up and rested her hand one of his that lingered on her cheek—carefully, as he already looked so weary and fragile that she didn't dare to risk causing him any amount of pain. Narcissa shifted Lucius's hand, pulling it down to brush over her neck, her clavicle, and her breasts and fighting hard not to shiver at the touch she had craved for so long. When theirs hand reached her stomach, she stopped, looking up into his eyes from beneath her lashes. He held her gaze for a long moment, uncomprehending. She blinked and glanced downward and then back to his face, and she saw the exact moment that understanding entered his eyes.

"You're… we're… ah…"

Narcissa believed she could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Lucius speechless. She nodded slowly, her eyes stinging as she bit her lip.

"We're having a baby, Lucius."

She knew she could also count on one hand the times she'd seen him weep. Therefore, when she caught the shine of tears in his eyes, her own began in earnest. She knew he must be feeling the same things that had been warring within her for the last few weeks—joy, love, sadness, fear. They both knew that he would now be trapped in this cold wasteland indefinitely, leaving Narcissa to bear their child alone, and then there was the treacherous and unforgiving world into which the child was to be born. A world in which he or she might not have a father, and where even if so, Lucius had fallen so far in the Dark Lord's eyes that there was no guarantee of his family's safety.

"That's wonderful," said Lucius at last with a small smile.

"Really?" Narcissa watched him for signs of sincerity, her gaze questioning.

"Of course, _ma fleur_. I'm thrilled. Come here." Through the bars, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as he could manage. She attempted to return his embrace, cursing this damnable place for making it absurdly difficult to reach him. "Everything is going to be all right. I promise you."

"How?" she asked, and her voice cracked. "How can it be?"

"This punishment will not last forever. I promise you that I will be with you again soon. I don't know how or when, but I will not die here. You will not have to do this alone, Narcissa. Do you believe me?"

She clung to him tightly and nodded. For a long moment, they stood in silence. Narcissa knew she didn't have long before the Aurors would return to escort her from the premises, but for right now, she was here in her husband's arms, and nothing else mattered.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you. Always."

She felt the brush of his lips against her hair, and then a moment later, she felt him shudder.

"Cissy, look at me," he said. She lifted her head to do so, and Lucius inhaled deeply before speaking again. "You have to go."

Narcissa blinked, unable to keep her disappointment from slipping to the surface. "Go? I only just—"

"I don't want to alarm you," Lucius said with forced calm, "but it isn't safe to be here for long." He glanced meaningfully at the corridor behind her, and she followed his gaze to find the shadows roiling beyond where the Aurors stood watching her and Lucius with unconcealed distaste. She paid the Aurors no mind, but she knew the shifting darkness beyond them concealed dementors.

"I can't leave you to this, darling." Narcissa looked to Lucius again, the thought of abandoning him to the mercy of the soul-sucking creatures enough to send her into a panic.

"You must. This is my sentence to serve." One of his hands moved again to her cheek while he continued to embrace her with the other. "Protect our children, Cissy."

_Children. _She realized, then, that Lucius had no idea that the Dark Lord wished to drag Draco into the mess into which the world outside was falling.

"Lucius, Draco's…"

She wanted to tell him that their son was likely soon to join the Death Eaters in his father's place… but she could not bring herself to say the words. She could not willingly inflict more pain on the man she loved, who was already suffering so greatly.

Narcissa sighed. "He misses you terribly."

"And I him. Narcissa, what else is troubling you?"

"It's… nothing. Nothing at all."

Lucius opened his mouth to press the matter, but a wave of chilled air rolled over the corridor, and Narcissa shivered.

"It isn't safe for you to visit me. Least of all while you're with child."

She stared at him, her eyes wide and her brows drawn. She knew exactly what she was thinking. She'd had so much trouble with pregnancy already, without the hazard of exposure to the dementors. Part of her knew that he was right, but she was unwilling to entertain the idea of being kept away from him indefinitely.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm going to visit you."

"No." The word left Lucius's lips almost harshly, which he appeared to realize a moment late, as he attempted to smile at her. "There won't be a need, because I'll be out of here soon enough. And don't let Draco. He doesn't need to be subjected to this."

"Lucius, _please_ don't ask me to—"

"Narcissa. Promise me."

Frowning, she struggled for words for a long moment, and then she sighed, looking to him imploringly. "I can't."

Lucius inhaled and let out the breath. "Fine. But for right now, you need to get home."

There were millions of things Narcissa wanted to say, but she could feel the atmosphere growing steadily colder as the dementors approached, and she knew she couldn't argue the point at hand. She needed to leave.

She stretched up on her toes to meet Lucius's lips. The two of them lingered there for only a moment, and then Narcissa pulled back.

"I'll see you soon, my love."

Lucius nodded, and Narcissa turned away, certain that leaving now was the most difficult thing she had ever had to do.


	7. Demands

**Chapter Seven: Demands**

"I thank you for inviting me into your home, this evening."

Narcissa bowed her head. She hadn't exactly had the option to refuse entry to the Dark Lord. He'd arrived unannounced and uninvited, and though the urge to slam the door in his face had swept over her the instant she'd seen him, she'd known it wasn't an option. Unfortunately.

She'd led him to the lounge, where she now sat on her favorite chaise, hoping that doing so would afford her a small amount of comfort when she knew this visit was going to end terribly for everyone involved. Draco sat in a chair nearby, and Bellatrix stood behind Narcissa, leaning over the chaise now and then as the Dark Lord spoke from where he sat in front of them, his arms draped over those of the chair as though it and the Manor belonged to him. Narcissa could feel her sister's excitement, and it made her stomach churn.

"It is our pleasure, My Lord," she said. She kept her expression carefully neutral, unwilling to let him know exactly how displeased she was to have him in her home.

"I have come to offer Draco the chance to prove his loyalty to me."

Narcissa watched as the Dark Lord turned his snake-like gaze on her son, and her hands tightened instinctively, her fingernails biting into her palms. Draco bowed his head.

"I would be honored, My Lord," he said.

"Should you succeed, Draco," said the Dark Lord, drumming his fingers against the wand lying in his lap, "you will forever earn your place with me, and all will be forgiven. This includes the failures of your father."

Draco looked up quickly, determination and excitement evident on his sharp features.

"I require you to eliminate someone for me."

Draco nodded, and Narcissa's heart sank. She wasn't prepared for her son to become a killer. _He's so young. So, so young. _

"Whatever you ask of me, My Lord," said Draco.

"Good." The Dark Lord's lips twisted upward unpleasantly. "I require you to kill Albus Dumbledore."

The silence that followed was complete enough that Narcissa might've believed she had gone suddenly deaf. No one moved.

_That's mad, _she thought. _Dumbledore's too powerful for… _Narcissa's face fell as she began to understand. Of course Dumbledore was too powerful for her sixteen-year-old son to kill singlehandedly.

The Dark Lord did not mean for Draco to succeed. He did not forgive. He intended to exact punishment for what he viewed as Lucius's failure by tasking Draco with a mission which he was almost certainly destined to fail.

He wanted Draco to be killed in the attempt.

Narcissa opened her mouth to beg him to reconsider—to let them repay him in some other way, to allow them a second chance. Before she could form the words, however, Draco rose from his chair and bowed deeply.

"I will not fail you, My Lord."

_No… Not Draco. He can't take my son. _

"Of course not," said the Dark Lord coolly. "Now I must speak with your mother. We have matters to discuss privately."

Draco glanced to Narcissa, and she gave him a stiff nod. It took her a moment to force words to form through her shock and horror. "Wait for us in the drawing room, will you, love?" she asked at last.

Looking somewhat dazed, Draco nodded. He strode quickly from the room.

_I wonder if he realizes, _thought Narcissa, _what he's just agreed to. _

"Leave us, Bellatrix."

Narcissa didn't look to her sister to gauge her expression. She knew Bellatrix would be affronted at being asked to leave. As she had anticipated, however, her sister did not argue. Bellatrix departed without a word. When she found herself alone with the Dark Lord, Narcissa shifted her attention to a spot on the carpet between them as he stood from his chair and drifted toward the window.

"Your sister tells me you've received wonderful news, Narcissa."

She did not look up from the spot on the floor, and she said nothing. She was certain she knew exactly what he meant, but until he asked her directly, she would volunteer nothing to him. She owed him less than nothing.

"Are you or are you not expecting a child?"

Narcissa swallowed hard, attempting to rid herself of the lump in her throat. "I am," she said, her mouth going dry with the words.

"I offer you my congratulations." The Dark Lord's voice was smooth and cold, and as he spoke, Narcissa's mind ticked away at trying to unravel his motives for speaking to her on the matter. He was incapable of caring for anyone. She'd deduced this about him shortly after they'd met; she'd known enough sociopaths over the course of her life to recognize the signs, and she'd known that this was one of the thousands of reasons Lucius had been unable to dig his way out, even when he'd realized he'd been dragged in too deep with the Dark Lord's demands. Narcissa knew that if Lucius had displeased the Dark Lord, the latter would've felt absolutely no remorse for killing him.

This was why she knew the punishment was far from over.

"Thank you, My Lord."

"I look forward to adding your next son or daughter to my ranks alongside Draco."

"My Lord?" Narcissa repeated a bit sharply, unable to restrain herself. She looked up at him at last, her eyes wide as she met the snake-like ones watching her from beside the window. The Dark Lord smiled, and the expression more closely resembled a grimace or the mouth of a hyena as it laughed before striking its prey.

"Of course you were planning to offer your child's service to me, were you not?"

"I—My Lord, I've only just found out about—I haven't had the time to think about the future." Her breathing had become rapid and shallow, and though she knew it wasn't, she found herself wishing this was all some sort of cruel joke. She'd already lost her family to the man who stood before her. Because of the Dark Lord, her husband was locked away surrounded by creatures who were slowly chipping away at his soul, and their son was slated for a death sentence through his task of eliminating Albus Dumbledore, which was almost certainly doomed to failure. Just when she'd thought the Dark Lord could take no more from her, here he stood, asking for her unborn child.

She had never hated anyone more in her life than she hated this man.

"I understand," he said, nodding slowly as he stepped forward, moving closer. She felt frozen to the chaise, though she knew it was her own body's refusal to move that kept her there and not magic. _Not yet, at least, _she thought bitterly. "I'm certain your thoughts have been more focused on the present and on the failures of the recent past. _Crucio._"

Narcissa involuntarily drew in as much air as her lungs could hold, her body starting to release it in a scream that she choked back as she doubled over. She gripped the seat of the chaise hard to keep herself from falling as pain surged through her body with the fury of lightning. She'd been paying too much attention to his face and keeping her own from showing emotion to notice when he'd raised his wand. She'd had practice dealing with this Curse, however, and she was not about to let him hear her scream. She'd learned from experience that doing so only led the person holding the wand to prolong the spell, or at least that was what had happened with her father, when he'd been drunk enough to take out his anger on his daughters with more than just his words. Narcissa hadn't felt the hell that was the Cruciatus Curse since before her marriage, but the reflexes she'd developed for dealing with it had begun to kick in the second the Dark Lord's spell had impacted her.

She lost track of how long she spent in agony, her body twisting against her best efforts to keep herself still. She did not, however, fall from her seat, and the little strained sounds that left her lips were not the screams that wanted so badly to burst from her lungs, for which she was indescribably grateful. The Dark Lord had taken enough without also gaining the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

_Please, _she prayed silently, _let the baby be all right. _

At last, the pain ceased, and she sat as still as she could manage as her shaky breaths rocked her shoulders. She kept her focus on the carpet beside the table.

"Your family has, as you've no doubt gathered, displeased me."

In her periphery, Narcissa saw the Dark Lord move toward her, pausing a few paces from the chaise on which she sat. She did not lift her eyes to look at him.

"Your husband pledged his services to me for the duration of his life. His mistakes have resulted in those services being unavailable at the present time, and they have also rendered a number of my other loyal followers temporarily useless. In repayment for this," the Dark Lord went on, moving closer still, "I will expect your full cooperation in anything I may ask of you and your children."

He gripped Narcissa's chin with a cold, pale hand and jerked it upward, forcing her to look at him. She struggled to keep her expression blank, but she doubted she'd managed to completely conceal her hatred.

"There are a number of ways to cause pain," the Dark Lord said quietly, "and not all of them involve magic. I doubt you'll be surprised that I know quite a bit about you, Narcissa. I know what you fear. My Death Eaters do talk. Mr. Rowle was particularly forthcoming."

_Pressed to a stone wall. A spell cutting across her thigh. Warm blood. _

Narcissa held the Dark Lord's gaze unflinchingly. She would not show him fear, no matter what memories his words dragged to the surface of her thoughts.

"As I said, I expect your cooperation. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Good. Then you will have no reason to worry. And I expect that Draco will perform his task well."

Narcissa nodded. There was no mistaking the threat behind these words, were Draco to fail. The Dark Lord watched her for a moment more and then released his grip on her chin, turning away and sweeping from the lounge. Narcissa sat for several moments longer without moving, her mind and body in a state of shock after everything that had just transpired. She wanted to barricade herself in her chambers and crumble, but more than that, she wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. While the Dark Lord could still be present somewhere in the Manor, Narcissa had no desire to remain on the premises.

She detested him even more—if possible—for making her fear to remain in her own home.

She rose from the chaise and started for the drawing room. Dwelling on what precisely the Dark Lord was threatening should she fail to comply with his wishes would do nothing to benefit her, and she needed no further reason for anxiety. She laid a hand on her stomach.

"We'll be fine, little one," she muttered.

How she wished she believed the words.

She paused in the doorway of the drawing room. Draco stood leaning against the opposite wall, his arms folded over his chest and his mouth set in a thin line. Bellatrix sat on the arm of a chair, her fingers drumming against her knee. Draco looked to Narcissa as she entered.

"How did it g—? Mother, what happened?" He frowned. "Are you all right?"

Narcissa sighed. "Yes, love, I'm fine." She wasn't certain what outward indication she had given otherwise. Was she too pale? Had her hair fallen into disarray? She didn't care, apart from the fact that she had obviously done something to allow her son to see her pain, which she knew he didn't need, at the moment. She could see the panic in his eyes, try as he might to conceal it. "We're going to go visit Aunt Lara for a little while. Go and get your things together, please. We'll be staying overnight."

Draco nodded. His frown remained in place, but he neither argued nor questioned his mother further. She was certain he would ask her again later what had happened, but for the moment, she was grateful that he did not press her. She slid to the side in the doorway to allow him to pass on his way from the room, and then she was left alone with Bellatrix.

"Cissy, what did he do?"

Bellatrix stood and started toward her sister, but Narcissa shook her head firmly.

"Why did you tell him about the baby?" she asked quietly.

Bellatrix paused, and her face fell. "It just slipped out. Why, did he—did he use it against you? Cissy?" Bellatrix stepped forward, reaching for her sister's hand. "I never meant—"

"It doesn't matter, Bella." Narcissa shook her head with a sigh. "What's done is done. We'll be back tomorrow."

"I can go with you."

"Don't. Please. I just… I need some time to think."

Narcissa knew her sister wouldn't have intentionally given the Dark Lord information he could use to hurt her, but Bellatrix was blinded by her devotion to her master, which often made her careless. At the moment, Narcissa needed to be around people whose loyalty to her was stronger than that which they held for the one responsible for her misery.

She gave her sister's hand a quick squeeze and then followed Draco from the room.


	8. Respite

**[TW: Flashback relating to attempted sexual assault.]**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Respite**

"You didn't say anything, when he gave me my mission."

Narcissa watched Draco's face as they stood in the Mulcibers' foyer awaiting Lara. The confidence Draco had shown as he'd walked past Bellatrix on the way out of the Manor after collecting his things was nowhere to be found, now. Instead, he looked uncertain. Narcissa assumed he had finally allowed the weight of the task he'd been given to sink in and that he'd realized what she'd known almost instantly: the Dark Lord's plan was a terrible idea.

Narcissa didn't want her son to know exactly how deep her fears for him ran. She knew he was already hurting, and she didn't want to add to his pain by admitting that she believed he was in very real danger or that the Dark Lord wanted him to fail.

"I didn't know what to say," she told him instead. "You're so young, and you haven't been properly trained for something like this. I know you feel honored by what he's asked you do to, but—"

"I do," he said, cutting her off. "He believes in me, Mother. He thinks I can do this. Do you?"

Narcissa swallowed. "Of course I do. Draco, you're my son. I think you can do anything you apply yourself to and more." _I think you'll give it more effort than the Dark Lord deserves, _she added mentally, _and damn him for putting you in this position. _

Draco studied her, and as she stared at the grey of his eyes, she felt as though she were lying to Lucius at the same time. She felt the guilt of both lies, and she feared Draco would see through her with the same ease his father would have.

If Draco recognized her lie, he did not comment on it. Instead, he sighed, looking to the floor for a moment before returning his focus to her.

"What did he want to talk to you about? What couldn't he say in front of Aunt Bella and me?"

"It was nothing," Narcissa said quickly, shaking her head. Draco opened his mouth, presumably to question her again, but Narcissa was spared the need for further lies by the entrance of her sister-in-law and Lara's two children. Narcissa smiled at them, both relieved to see familiar faces that were neither threatening nor in immediate danger and grateful for an opportunity to change the subject. "I'm so sorry to drop in on you like this, Lara," she said. "Normally, I wouldn't dream of stopping by without an invitation, but—"

"Nonsense. You're always welcome, here. I've told Elly to start preparing supper for all of us, if you two haven't eaten already." Lara inclined her head to Draco, resting a hand on the shoulder of each of the teenagers standing beside her. The boy's hair was dark like his father's, but the girl had inherited her blond locks from the Malfoy side. "Hannibal, Persephone, please make your cousin feel at home. We've guest rooms, if you're planning to stay," Lara added, looking to Narcissa and Draco again.

"Thank you," said Narcissa earnestly. She was touched more deeply by this kindness than she knew how to express. She had experienced so little of it lately that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

Lara nodded. "Go show Draco to a room, please, you two. We'll send for you when supper's ready."

Draco took a step forward to follow his cousins as they departed, and Narcissa reached out and caught his arm, leaning close to speak into his ear.

"Don't mention anything about—"

"I won't," he muttered. Without another word, he followed Hannibal and Persephone from the room.

"Come on, dear," said Lara, holding out her arm to Narcissa, her eyes sympathetic. Narcissa sighed internally and took her sister-in-law's arm, allowing herself to be led to the drawing room and to the white chair she frequented. She expected Lara to take the seat beside her, but instead, the other woman sat on the arm of Narcissa's chair, taking both of her hands. "Now tell me what's happening," she said.

"We just didn't feel like being home, at the moment."

"Because of Bellatrix?"

Narcissa shook her head, and then she paused, tipping it to the side. "In a manner of speaking. She didn't exactly help." When Lara frowned and showed no indication of giving up on the matter, Narcissa resigned herself to admitting what had transpired. She was thoroughly tired of lying, though she knew she wasn't likely to be able to stop it, anytime soon. "The Dark Lord stopped by," she said at last.

Lara's eyes narrowed, and her typically kind face took on a severity more often seen on her brother, when he was provoked. Narcissa found herself wishing she didn't feel as though she were being stabbed every time someone or something reminded her of Lucius. He'd only been gone for a few weeks, but as that was longer than they'd been apart since before their marriage, it felt to her like much, much longer.

She couldn't imagine how he would react, if he knew what the Dark Lord had done to her and what he had threatened for the future.

"What happened?" asked Lara, pulling Narcissa's thoughts more firmly into the present. "And don't bother telling me 'nothing,' because you wouldn't be trembling, if that were the case."

_She really is quite a bit like him. _

"He wants Draco to join the Death Eaters," said Narcissa with a sigh. "He's decided Draco's first task will be to commit murder, and he informed me that I'm to cooperate with everything he asks of our family, because he knows exactly what I fear and that there are ways to inflict pain that don't involve magic."

* * *

_The house was filled with people, but they were too far away to hear her, if she screamed. He'd led her away from the party and into a deserted corridor under the pretense of conversation, and she'd realized too late that she should've known better. He'd never valued her opinions_—_what would he have possibly wanted to discuss? She felt so stupid. _

"_Let go of me. I swear, Thorfinn, if you don't get away from me right now, I'll—"_

"_You'll what?" Thorfinn Rowle grinned, pressing her arm harder against the wall with his elbow as the connected hand reached for one of the ties of her bodice to give it a tug and the other hand gripped her hip roughly. "We'll be married soon, if your mother has her way, so I'd watch how you answer that. It's your job to—" _

"_Let me _go_!" _

_She stomped hard on his foot, the heel of her shoe digging in deeply, and he let out a pained hiss, his grip slacking for an instant she used to rip her arm from his grasp. His dark eyes met hers, then, alive with fury. He reached for his wand, and she took advantage of the instant's distraction to punch him as forcefully as she could manage in the nose. As he stumbled backward, he pulled hard at her dress, and she felt it slide slightly out of place due to his loosening of her ties. _

_He flicked the wrist with which he held his wand. A sickeningly sharp pain seared across her right thigh, and she heard her skirt rip, but she ignored it, dodging his hands when he grabbed for her and running down the corridor as quickly as her legs would carry her. _

* * *

Narcissa blinked away the memory, reminding herself that it had happened long ago and could do nothing to hurt her, now. She still bore the scar from that spell, but thankfully, it had been the only one she'd sustained.

She wondered exactly what Rowle had told the Dark Lord.

"He told me that," she went on, forcing herself to focus on the fact that it was neither of them sitting before her but Lara, whom she trusted, "after he'd already used the Cruciatus Curse on me, which was about as pleasant as you can imagine."

Lara drew in a sharp breath. "Are you all right? What about the baby? Cissy, you should see a Healer—"

"We're fine." Narcissa hoped with all of her being that this was true. She couldn't bear the idea of her child sharing the pain she'd been forced to endure, and anything worse than that would not so much as form as a thought in her mind.

For a long moment, silence filled the drawing room. Narcissa had no desire to offer more information as to what had gone on with the Dark Lord; the sooner she could put the meeting from her mind, the better it would be for her mental state, and she didn't wish to dump more of a burden on Lara with further knowledge when she already felt that she was imposing on her sister-in-law's hospitality.

"Well," said Lara at last, skepticism apparent on her face, "we're going to get you supper, and you're going to take it easy, tonight, whether you want to or not."

Narcissa nodded. "Thank you. Lara… Mathias was in Azkaban for quite a long time, wasn't he?"

Lara's face fell, and Narcissa mentally chastised herself for asking. She had reason for bringing up the subject, but she regretted it, all the same.

"Fifteen years, yes," said Lara, "until he got out last year. And now he's back in. I was in your situation, too, you know, though not for quite as long—Persephone was born two months after he was arrested, the first time."

"Did you visit him?" asked Narcissa.

"As often as they'd allow me." Lara nodded. "And when I couldn't, I sent him letters."

"They let you write him?" Narcissa's eyes widened. She hadn't considered this possibility. She'd expected the Ministry to completely sever all forms of communication between its prisoners and the outside world.

"Yes. He said the letters always looked like they'd been opened by the time they reached him, so I'm certain someone inspected them first, but we wrote one another."

For the first time since before Lucius had left for the Department of Mysteries, Narcissa allowed herself to feel a sliver of hope. She smiled. Lara, watching her, appeared to understand.

"That could be exactly what you need, right now. Follow me."

She slid to her feet, and Narcissa did the same, following close behind as Lara led her to a room on the house's second floor where a white wooden desk sat against the far wall and a tawny owl rested on its perch in the corner beside an open window.

"Take as much time as you need."

Lara closed the door as she departed, and Narcissa was left alone. She crossed the room silently to settle into the chair at the desk, reaching into the drawer for a piece of parchment and a quill. She stared at the blank page before her for several moments and wondered exactly what to say. If Aurors were going to intercept the letter, she didn't want to give any information that could potentially be used against her or against Lucius. She had to choose her words carefully. After careful deliberation, she began to write.

* * *

_My Lucius—_

_I will do the best I can to honor your wish that I stay away from Azkaban at the present time if you'll promise to write me as often as you're able. Your sister tells me that she and Mathias were able to correspond through owl post, and I think this could be exactly what we need. Things are becoming worse out here by the day. I feel like I'm going mad, and talking with you is the only way I'll be able to keep anything resembling my sanity. Draco and I are staying with Lara for the night, and she's told me to take as long as I need, but I'm afraid she's delaying supper for me, and I feel that I've already asked too much of her by being here. When I'm home, I'll be able to write much longer letters and remind you of every reason you have to remain hopeful despite how dark things look at the moment. Please stay strong and know that I'm thinking of you all the time. _

_My love always,_

_Narcissa_

* * *

She wiped away the drop of moisture that had fallen from her eye to land beside her signature, and she attached the letter to the tawny owl's leg, sending it off through the window before leaning against the ledge to collect herself.

"Everything's going to be fine," she breathed. "We're going to be fine."

She turned away from the window and made her way downstairs. Though she was far too anxious and tense to be hungry, she knew she should eat something, for the sake of the baby.

_There might be nothing I can do to help Lucius or Draco, at the moment_, she thought, _but at least I can help this little one. If I can hold on to that, maybe everything else will seem just a little less awful. _


	9. The Black Sisters

**Chapter Nine: The Black Sisters**

_Narcissa,_

_I cannot accurately describe how wonderful it was to receive your letter. Remaining hopeful is difficult. At first, I focused easily on pleasant memories to keep my mind from the dementors, but the longer I'm here, the harder it becomes to bring anything happy to mind. It has only been a few weeks since I arrived, but it feels much, much longer. I promise to write as often as I can—though I wonder whether the Aurors will actually see that this is delivered to you. Your letter had been opened before it reached me—a gross misuse of power. _

_I hope you know that asking you not to visit was the last thing I wanted to do, and the idea of not being able to see or touch you is a worse punishment than anything else. We'll have letters, now, at least, and that will be enough to make certain that I have something positive to focus on while I'm here. Thank you for agreeing to stay safe. Please keep me apprised of what's happening at home, and give my love to Draco and Lara. _

_Yours always,_

_Lucius x_

* * *

"Hmmph. Not one mention of me."

Narcissa had been too absorbed in her rereading of the letter for what must've been the thirtieth time to notice that her sister had approached and paused behind her chair. She blushed as she realized that Bellatrix had been reading over her shoulder.

"Bella…" Narcissa shook her head. She'd returned with Draco from the Mulcibers' after breakfast, and since then, Narcissa and Bellatrix had spoken very little. Bellatrix had been in the bedroom she'd been given for most of the day, and Narcissa had begun to wonder whether her sister was avoiding her. If she had been, those efforts appeared to have been abandoned, now.

"I'm only teasing you, Cissy." Bellatrix rolled her eyes, dropping into the closest seat to her sister's and drumming her fingers against the chair's arm with what looked to Narcissa like a combination of boredom and agitation.

Narcissa watched her sister carefully. Bellatrix was a bomb that could easily explode if she were to say the wrong thing. Narcissa knew her sister hated being trapped within the Manor; even in childhood, Bellatrix had never enjoyed remaining in one place for what she deemed too long when she could've been accomplishing something elsewhere. It was for her safety that she remained here, though she was clearly not enjoying it.

"I know," said Narcissa after a brief pause. "But I wish you'd ease up on him."

Bellatrix frowned. She inhaled deeply and let out the breath in a sigh. "Contrary to what you may believe, I don't exactly… _hate_ your husband."

"You certainly make it seem that way."

"You think I wanted someone I learned Unforgivable Curses with marrying my little sister?" Bellatrix snapped.

Narcissa stared at her. _Is that it? _she thought. _Is that why she's been so antagonistic toward him for so long? Does she think I'm in danger? _Narcissa doubted that was the entire reason for her sister's behavior. She'd seen Bellatrix and Lucius struggle for power on more than one occasion, even over simple things such as seating placement at dinners—she recalled Bellatrix making a point to take the chair belonging to Lucius on her first morning at the Manor, and she realized belatedly that it had likely been a continuation of a fight started fifteen-odd years earlier, before Bellatrix's imprisonment. Narcissa imagined the bickering between the two only became worse when wands and orders were involved.

"Lucius would never hurt me," she said, shaking her head. Though she had questioned many other things over the past several weeks, she knew that much to be true beyond all doubt.

"Not intentionally. He does love you," said Bellatrix, and it sounded to Narcissa that the words were borderline painful for her sister to say. "But look at what's happened. You _are_ hurting—I can see it clearly, even when you refuse to talk to me and run off to _Lara _instead. You're suffering because you're with him and now he's in Azkaban for Merlin-knows-how-long. I never wanted that for you."

"What about when you were in Azkaban for more than a decade?"

Silence dropped like lead over the room, and the two women stared at one another. The words had been threatening to burst from Narcissa's lips since her sister had escaped from the prison roughly a year previously, but she'd always managed to hold them back until now. How dare Bellatrix fault Lucius for being taken away from Narcissa when she'd allowed the same to happen to herself so many years before?

"You think I wanted to be locked up?" asked Bellatrix, scowling.

"Didn't you?" Narcissa challenged. "I was at your trial, Bella. You didn't even _try _to defend yourself. Your loyalty has always been to the Dark Lord, and you were willing to go to Azkaban for him."

"Of course I was! I dedicated my life to serving him, and I knew that when he freed us, we would be rewarded for our loyalty—Rodolphus and Rabastan and _me_! I've earned that reward, Narcissa! I've earned my time on the outside, now! That doesn't mean I _wanted _to spend half my life in prison! I had no idea how long I was going to be there, and—"

"But you didn't think about any of that, did you?" Narcissa pressed. Bellatrix had leaned forward in her chair, her voice rising with the passion she'd channeled into her words, but Narcissa forced her own tone to remain as calm as she could manage in order to keep her emotions under her control. She'd shed entirely too many tears, lately, and she didn't want to seem weak to this woman who had faced the prospect of life in prison while sitting in her sentencing chair as though it were a throne. "You didn't consider that the Dark Lord could've left you there. Or if he hadn't returned—"

"I knew he would return!"

"But you were willing to take your chances, if he didn't." Narcissa laid Lucius's letter on the table beside her in order to keep herself from damaging it, as her other hand had already tightened reflexively on the arm of her chair until her knuckles had turned white. "Lucius was willing to lie for you, to protect you. He tried to tell the Ministry you'd acted under the Imperius Curse, and when you made it perfectly clear that you'd acted of your own volition, it almost destroyed his credibility. I almost lost both of you, right then. I would've been here with my year-old son while the two people I love most apart from him were taken away. Don't you see that, Bella? Don't you see that you chose the Dark Lord over me fifteen years ago?"

The anger slowly drained from Bellatrix's face, replaced over the moments that followed with shock and—Narcissa's stomach twisted at the sight, and she wished immediately that she hadn't said a word on the subject—pain. She opened her mouth, prepared to apologize for getting carried away. She'd meant every word, but normally, she never would've said any of it aloud. She'd been trained by their parents to keep her feelings to herself when they ran the risk of slightly inconveniencing someone else, and though she'd worked for years to rid herself of this mentality, this time, she wished she'd obeyed what Cygnus and Druella had tried to force on her so long ago.

Before she could take anything back, however, Bellatrix spoke.

"That's why you talk to Lara and not me, isn't it?"

Narcissa sighed, relaxing her grip on the chair's arms. The fight had all but gone out of her, for the moment, and she simply felt tired. "It's why I didn't feel like I could tell you what happened, when you and Draco left me alone with the Dark Lord."

"I…" Bellatrix frowned, looking down at her knees for a moment as she worked at the words she wanted to convey. "I never looked at it like a choice," she said at last, her focus shifting to Narcissa once more. "That's never what it was, to me—at least not a choice between him and you. I chose to serve him, but I never wanted to hurt you. I knew I might not get out again, but while I ignored what Lucius was trying to do to get me freed, I knew he was going to be out here with you. That you'd be safe. It never crossed my mind that it would matter if I wasn't part of that."

"Of course it mattered, Bella." Despite her best efforts to keep her tears away, Narcissa felt them starting to form. "You're my sister. I love you."

Bellatrix watched Narcissa for a moment, and then she stood, closing the remaining distance between them to lean down and embrace her. The gesture felt awkward physically, as though it had been years since Bellatrix had attempted anything like it, but the sentiment was clear, and Narcissa held onto her tightly.

"I love you, too," Bellatrix muttered. "Now are you going to tell me what happened?"

Narcissa shook her head, leaning back to meet her sister's gaze, and Bellatrix straightened to her full height as she stood beside the chair.

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't want to think about it," said Narcissa. "But I give you my word that if something else happens, you'll be the first one I tell, if that's what you want."

Bellatrix sighed and nodded, frowning slightly. She didn't appear thrilled by the answer, but she wasn't arguing, which was progress, in Narcissa's opinion.

"Will you at least tell me if that one's okay?" asked Bellatrix, pointing toward Narcissa's stomach.

"Perfectly fine."

Bellatrix nodded again, and then she yawned.

"Go rest, Bella," said Narcissa. "We'll talk more later." She drew the letter back into her lap. After her sister had gone, she planned to begin her reply to Lucius.

Bellatrix started toward the door, gesturing to the letter as she walked. "Tell him I would've liked a 'hello.'"

"I will."

As Bellatrix left the room, Narcissa looked down at the letter she held once more, a faint smile on her lips.


	10. Spinner's End

**Chapter Ten: Spinner's End**

Several days passed in which Narcissa weighed her options. She didn't want to allow Draco to embark on a mission so potentially disastrous as the one with which he had been tasked, though she knew he had no choice. It bothered her deeply that her son didn't appear to see the danger he was in, whether he succeeded or failed. If he managed to kill Dumbledore, either the Ministry or the Order of the Phoenix would see him arrested or worse, and if he failed, he would be at Dumbledore's mercy. Given the longstanding ill-will between Dumbledore and Lucius, Narcissa didn't believe entrusting Draco's safety to the Headmaster was at all wise.

Shortly after he'd given the order, the Dark Lord had passed on the knowledge through Bellatrix that Draco's task was to be kept a secret.

"_He seemed quite surprised you hadn't filled me in on it already,"_ Bellatrix had said, frowning, _"and he told me everything about what's supposed to happen. But we aren't to tell another soul. He was clear about that."_

"_Yes,"_ Narcissa had said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, _"of course he was."_

The Dark Lord was _always_ clear about what he wanted. It didn't matter if one disagreed with him, because his word was law. Therefore, in her letters to Lucius, Narcissa gave few details about what had been asked of their son. She used terms such as "our friend" to describe the man who was moving them all like pieces on a chessboard and "thinks Draco shows great promise" as a euphemism for the more accurate "wants to use Draco to punish us." She didn't want the Aurors shoving their noses in her family's business more than they already were by perusing the letters, and she didn't want to endanger Lucius further by giving the Dark Lord another reason to be angry with him. The less he knew about things that were supposed to be kept secret, the better it would be for all of them.

Still, though, even with limited information, Lucius had deduced enough to begin allowing panic to trickle into his writing, and it was clear to Narcissa that he was sitting in his cell thinking too much about the problems outside and blaming himself for them. He didn't need these issues on his conscience when he was surely already suffering. Though Narcissa wanted him to believe she'd done the right thing by letting him know part of what was happening, she regretted mentioning anything at all.

As she sat across from her sister in an armchair, Narcissa contemplated what she could do to rectify the situation or at least set it on a path to improvement. She herself would be powerless to assist her son in his task, as it would have to take place after he'd returned to school. He hadn't yet begun his training, and she knew he had a long path ahead of him before he was anywhere near ready to attempt this mission. She wondered momentarily whether the Dark Lord would allow Draco to complete his training or whether he would deliberately send the boy off before he'd had the chance to learn enough to properly defend himself. At the risk of becoming angrier, she redirected her thoughts.

If she could not be present to help Draco, who could? Who, that was, out of the slim number of people she trusted?

"We can't let him do this alone," she said, more to herself than to Bellatrix. Still, the elder sister glanced to the younger with a brow raised.

"What is it you imagine you can do?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes. _What an impressive level of confidence you have in me, Bella, _she thought. "I don't recall saying I would be the one to do it," she said instead.

"Then what are you suggesting?"

Narcissa looked away, considering. The majority of the people she would've turned to for help eliminating someone were imprisoned alongside her husband, and she knew Bellatrix would never intervene in a task the Dark Lord wanted performed in a specific manner. The only other person she could think of who was free… would be absolutely perfect.

"Who better to help Draco," said Narcissa slowly, "than someone who will be with him throughout the entire year at Hogwarts? Someone who can teach him what he doesn't learn before he leaves and who can protect him if things go wrong?"

"Someone at Hogwarts?" repeated Bellatrix flatly. "Who…? No. You're not suggesting… Narcissa, that's a dreadful idea." Narcissa looked to her sister once more to find that Bellatrix was frowning, her dark eyes wide.

"Lucius trusts Severus. That's good enough for me."

"_Cissy!_ Snape is a _traitor!_" Bellatrix's voice was incredulous, and she shook her head forcefully enough to send her hair flying around her as though it were caught in a storm. "He betrayed us to the Order, and he—"

"He's also Draco's teacher and Head of House, and it wouldn't be at all obvious to Dumbledore that something was going on if the two of them were to be seen speaking." The idea only made more sense to Narcissa the longer she spoke of it, and though Bellatrix seemed to grow more panicked and offended with each word, Narcissa only grew more confident.

"You're not seriously considering mentioning this to _Snape?_" Bellatrix demanded. "Of all people!"

"Who would be better? Can you tell me that?"

Bellatrix was silent. Narcissa nodded in satisfaction and stood, grabbing her cloak from the chaise and pulling it onto her shoulders.

"Wait! You're being ridiculous! You can't go now!"

"I can't?" Narcissa scoffed, fastening her cloak. "Watch me."

She Disapparated.

* * *

Narcissa reappeared along the edge of a river dirtier than any other body of water she'd ever seen, and within an instant of materializing, she doubled over, closing her eyes and struggling to return her breathing to a steady pace. The sensation of Apparating was unsettling enough without the added discomfort of nausea. Narcissa had become well-practiced at Apparition over the years, but using this method of transportation while she was expecting had not been one of her better ideas. She remained still for only a few moments, though, forcing herself to move as soon as she could and keeping her steps quick as she drew her cloak tighter around herself. Her sister, she knew, would be pursuing her.

Just as she'd anticipated, the _pop _of Bellatrix's arrival followed soon after her own, but Narcissa did not turn back. She started up the riverbank, doing her best to ignore the stench of the disused, thrown-out items littering the grass as she moved. At the edge of her vision, she saw a flash of green light timed with what sounded like the cry of some helpless creature. She clenched her jaw, trying hard not to dwell on the violence Bellatrix insisted upon even when unprovoked, and focused on keeping herself steady as she climbed up the steep bank.

"Just a fox. I thought perhaps an Auror—Cissy, wait! Cissy—Narcissa—listen to me—"

Narcissa felt her sister's tight grip on her arm, and she pulled it away, glaring. "Go back, Bella!" she instructed.

"You must listen to me!" insisted Bellatrix, her eyes wild.

"I've listened already. I've made my decision. Leave me alone!"

Narcissa hurried onward, pausing at the top of the bank to take in the street before her. She was almost too deep in thought to notice when Bellatrix paused beside her, The houses were so old and poorly maintained that they looked as though they might fall in on themselves at any moment, and as she stood watching them in the dark of night with the putrid stench of the river assaulting her nose, Narcissa considered exactly how far she had departed from the shelter and decadence of Malfoy Manor. The night was chilly and damp, and had she not been absolutely desperate to acquire help for her son, she would've been safe within her home, blissfully unaware of the discomfort of this place.

She shook away these thoughts and passed through a space between the railings guarding the river, starting across the street and ignoring the complaints of her sister about their location. If Bellatrix thought Narcissa truly wanted to be here, she was mistaken. But Narcissa had seen no other option. She wasn't going to allow Draco to suffer and do nothing to help him, not while there was still breath in her body.

Narcissa hurried through alleyways and along streets beneath broken lamps and away from Bellatrix until the elder sister caught up with the younger at last, hauling her around by her arm to demand her attention.

"Cissy, you must not do this, you can't trust him—"

"The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?" demanded Narcissa.

"The Dark Lord is… I believe… mistaken."

Had Narcissa not heard the words with her own ears, she wouldn't have believed her sister capable of speaking them.

"In any case," Bellatrix pressed on, "we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord's—"

"Let go, Bella!" Narcissa snarled. She didn't give a damn about betraying the Dark Lord's trust, after everything he had done. He'd resurfaced after more than a decade to demand her family's loyalty and, after little more than a year, had proceeded to get Lucius imprisoned, torture Narcissa, and coerce Draco into a suicide mission. Narcissa raised her wand, directing it at her sister's face. She'd never used force against Bellatrix, but her sister's blind loyalty to the man who was singlehandedly dismantling their family was infuriating.

Bellatrix laughed. "Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't—"

"There is nothing I wouldn't do anymore!"

And it was true. She hadn't admitted it to herself even in her mind until now, but her desperation had reached a point she'd never before experienced. She'd always been willing to do whatever her son or her husband needed, but this new state reached far beyond the limits she'd thought she'd had. Hexing her sister would do nothing to help Draco, but Narcissa's rage had escalated to a degree that she no longer cared. Hexing Bellatrix would make her feel better—would give an outlet for the frustration she harbored for her sister's inability to see reason, even if it served no higher purpose.

She slashed her wand through the air, casting a nonverbal curse she hoped would force her sister to release her. Bellatrix did so, pulling her arm back and cradling it with the same look she might've worn if Narcissa had suddenly sprouted another limb. Narcissa turned away and hurried off down the street, telling herself as she moved that she shouldn't regret what she'd done but not entirely believing the words. _It's still much milder than what Bella would've done, _she thought, but this brought her no comfort.

"_Narcissa!_"

_Go away. Let me be. I can handle this on my own. _

Narcissa hurtled down the final street—the one she knew led to the house for which she'd been searching. When she reached the threshold, she knocked, and then she could only wait. Bellatrix fell in at her side, and several moments passed before the door opened slightly. Narcissa recognized the man within by the slim portion of him she could see through the opening—Severus Snape, made unmistakable by his ashen complexion and his long, dark hair—and she lowered her hood to allow him to recognize her, as well. His eyes widened as he scanned her face, and then he pushed open the door.

"Narcissa! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Severus," said Narcissa quietly. "May I speak to you? It's urgent."

"But of course."


	11. Photographs

**Chapter Eleven: Photographs**

Narcissa stared out over Malfoy Manor's grounds through a window in the master bedroom, watching as a light rain began to fall. She counted her blessings that the poor weather had held off until she'd returned to the house. Several minutes earlier, she'd finished walking a perimeter around the property to place an array of protective charms over her home, including those to preclude Apparition within the charms' boundaries. As she lowered the curtain, she turned away from the window, making her way to the dresser, where she'd left the letter she'd received early that morning.

* * *

_Narcissa,_

_It has only been weeks, but it feels much, much longer. I haven't seen sunlight since I arrived, apart from what fits through the window in my cell that's roughly the size of my hand. Whatever it is they try to pass off as food here certainly isn't, and I feel so much worse after eating it that I wish I hadn't eaten at all. I'm honestly surprised they're allowing us to correspond, but it may be the only thing that's keeping me sane. You haven't mentioned Draco in the last several letters—that worries me, Cissy. It's not at all like you. If he's in some sort of trouble, tell me what's happening. I can do very little from here, but I don't want you to have to deal with everything alone. _

_If you wouldn't mind, please mention something in your next letter about a memory or two that I can have in writing, just in case it gets more difficult to recall happier days than it is now. Things are already beginning to become hazy. In return, I just want you to remember how much I love you and to remain strong. Any type of precaution you can take at the moment would be highly advisable—remember the desk. _

_Yours always,_

_Lucius x_

* * *

Narcissa had read through the letter several times, trying to absorb everything. Her heart ached at the thought of the conditions in which Lucius was stranded—could it be legal to feed people so poorly and deprive them of sunlight?—and the idea that the few remaining dementors made it difficult for him to remember anything pleasant. She couldn't imagine how much worse things would become, the longer he remained in Azkaban. After less than two months, he was already beginning to forget portions of life outside the prison's walls.

How the hell had Bellatrix survived entrapment there for so many years? Narcissa would've asked her sister this, if Bellatrix weren't currently sulking around Malfoy Manor in the way Narcissa might've expected of a small child who had been disciplined for the first time in her life.

_I made the right choice, _thought Narcissa, shaking her head. Bellatrix had made no effort to hide her disapproval of her sister's decision to consult Severus Snape for assistance. Narcissa knew Bellatrix's disagreement was based on her loyalty to the Dark Lord and what she saw as a betrayal of his cause—and, admittedly, his direct order not to speak of the task he had assigned to Draco. Even if Narcissa had still possessed loyalty to the Dark Lord—if it hadn't been completely obliterated by the circumstances and the man's behavior toward her family and herself—she would've found this command difficult to obey. Draco's safety was her priority, and despite her sister's attempts to derail the conversation at Spinner's End by insulting Severus and belittling his worth to their cause, Narcissa had managed to win. She had initiated an Unbreakable Vow; Severus had agreed under pain of death to protect Draco after the boy returned to school and, if it appeared that Draco would be unable to perform his mission, Severus had agreed to do so. The knot that Narcissa had believed was on its way to becoming a permanent fixture within her chest had begun to loosen, and though she now found herself indescribably indebted to Snape, she couldn't recall the last time she'd felt more relieved.

She glanced up from the letter to her reflection in the mirror above the dresser, and she wondered exactly when she'd become the kind of woman who would ask a friend to make a vow that, if broken, would cost that friend his life. She told herself—as she had several times a day since her visit to Spinner's End—that it would never come to something so awful. Either Draco would succeed or Severus would in his place. As Narcissa sighed, she watched her reflection's shoulders sink slightly with her breath. Her face was as pale, smooth, and high-cheekboned as it had ever been, but the dark circles beneath her eyes were becoming too pronounced to be concealed by cosmetics. She wondered momentarily whether she would have to begin using magic to hide the evidence of her sleepless nights, and then she pressed her red lips into a firm line as she decided she didn't care what she had to do. She would keep the public under the impression that she wasn't steadily losing her grasp on everything she held dear.

She was not broken.

She blinked away these thoughts and lowered her gaze to the letter once more, returning her focus to its last full sentence. These words had taken her the longest to riddle out. What precautions had Lucius meant, and what on earth did the desk have to do with anything? After reading the letter a few more times, she had understood: he meant the desk in his study, where he'd informed her years earlier that he kept endless contingency plans. He'd stored everything from family wills to lists of where certain items were to be hidden during Ministry raids to things he wanted her to have and to know if they were ever separated for too long.

Within one of the drawers, she'd found a book of protective spells. A folded note had marked a page instructing the reader on how to erect an anti-Apparition field and had borne the pages of several other relevant charms that Narcissa had decided to cast, as well. Now that the shield was in place, she felt much safer than she had since Lucius's arrest. She was still far from at ease, but this, at least, was something. No one could burst directly into the house or grounds; if someone wanted to bother her family, that person would need to enter through the gates and take the path to the house, and with the charms Narcissa had put in place to warn her of anyone's approach, she believed she would have sufficient time to ensure that everyone remained safe.

This left one portion of Lucius's letter still to be addressed.

Narcissa carried the letter with her to her bedside table, and she pulled a large photo album from the drawer. As she settled onto the bed, she laid the letter beside her and opened the album over her lap, allowing herself to recall the last time she'd perused its pages, when she'd been sitting in precisely the same spot.

* * *

_While sorting through old boxes in one of the less-used bedrooms, Narcissa had stumbled across a photo of herself with both of her sisters. She'd settled onto the floor as memories of the girls she'd grown up with had flooded her mind. She had done her best not to think about them often, with Bellatrix imprisoned and Andromeda somewhere far away and unreachable. The three of them had been inseparable as children and as teenagers, and now, Narcissa found herself without two of the people she'd trusted most. _

_Another of these people had found her after returning home from work at the Ministry. Lucius had listened to Narcissa ramble about her sisters for at least an hour before gently suggesting they look through more pleasant memories, and they'd returned together to their room to examine the album Lara had given them at their wedding to fill with images of their family. _

"_I remember that," said Lucius, leaning over to examine a photo on the page lying in front of Narcissa. In it, a seven-year-old Draco stood at the heart of Ollivander's wand shop, a wand much too big for him clutched in his tiny hand._

_Narcissa laughed. "Ollivander almost had us banned for life, but you assured him you'd cover the repairs. I don't think he believed you until you left a sack of Galleons on his desk on the way out." She turned the page, and her eye was caught by a moving image of an eleven-year-old Draco zipping through the front lawn on a broomstick while Lucius chased after him rather unsuccessfully. "Training him for the Quidditch team." _

"_I knew he was destined to play," said Lucius, smiling. "Didn't I tell you?" _

"_You did." Narcissa nodded. "What you didn't tell me was how often he would injure himself while learning the game…" _

_Lucius shrugged. "I assumed you knew," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "You came to enough of my matches to see how dangerous they could be." _

"_Yes, but—"_

"_But nothing." He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her softly, and she couldn't stop herself from smiling at the touch of his lips. "At least I didn't injure anyone else while playing. Draco, though…" Lucius glanced back to the image on the page, and as Narcissa followed his gaze, a vivid flash of being knocked over by a young Draco passed through her mind, and she rolled her eyes. _

"_He almost broke the camera," she said. "And me." _

"_Oh… you might be exaggerating just slightly." _

_She elbowed him in the ribs, and he let out a teasing "Ow" before reaching out to adjust the album to sit between the two of them, one side resting against either of their legs. _

"_The Quidditch World Cup," he said, pointing to an image in which they stood with Draco beside their seats in the top box. _

_Narcissa leaned her head on her husband's shoulder, and his arm tightened around her waist. It wasn't often the three of them were able to go out and enjoy themselves; Draco was typically away at school and Lucius at the Ministry. _

_She then recalled what else had happened at that Quidditch World Cup, and her face fell as flashes of light and the hooded silhouettes of family friends flickered through her mind. _

"_There were so many damned stairs," Lucius went on, "it's a wonder no one got hurt." _

Not by the stairs, _Narcissa thought, but she didn't plan to ruin the moment by saying something like this aloud. "I don't remember who took this," she said instead. _

"_It was Fudge. It's a wonder the man knew how to work the camera." _

* * *

Now, as she ran her hands over the familiar photographs, she took care to trace the places Lucius had touched, wanting to keep the memory as vivid as possible as she began to search through endless pages of other moments in their lives.

Near the front of the book, she found a photo of teenagers in Slytherin robes. She herself stood between Lucius and Lara—who attempted to shove one another behind Narcissa's back, their motions partially captured by the enchanted image—at the center of a larger group. They were surrounded by their dorm-mates and friends and members of the Quidditch team. As Narcissa surveyed the faces, she realized the majority of these people were now either imprisoned, had been killed, or had long-since fallen out of contact with her family. She pulled the photo from the album and laid it aside, making a mental note to track down those people about whose fates she was uncertain.

She turned the page, and she was greeted by an image of herself in a long white gown, smiling brightly beside a delighted Lucius in exquisitely tailored dress-robes. She slipped the image out of its sleeve and set the album aside, climbing off the bed to return to the dresser, where she'd left her reply to Lucius's latest letter. In her response, Narcissa had insisted that Draco was perfectly fine. She had no intention of worrying her husband with the task the Dark Lord had assigned their son, particularly when Lucius was already having such trouble clinging to positivity. She picked up the quill she'd left out and added a sentence to her letter's final paragraph before slipping it into the envelope along with the photograph.

* * *

_I love you as much as I did when this was taken, and I will be here when you return and for as long as I live. _


	12. Raid

**Chapter Twelve: Raid**

A sharp rapping at the front doors drew the collective attention of everyone seated around the table. Narcissa glanced first to Draco and then to Bellatrix, wondering who would be bothering them so early in the morning. Prim hadn't even managed to bring out breakfast yet, and still someone saw fit to intrude.

The knocking came again, this time harder, more insistent. Narcissa ran through the list of people who might've decided to visit in her mind, and she could think of no one who would be so aggressive in the attempt to enter, which meant it had to be someone she didn't know.

…_No. _

She apparently understood at the same moment as Bellatrix, who pushed back from the table so quickly her chair wobbled on its legs before righting itself as Bellatrix backed across the dining room toward the wall.

"What's going on?" asked Draco, rising slowly.

"Aurors." Narcissa sighed, getting to her feet and running through possible courses of action in her mind as she glanced toward the foyer. She'd known it would be only a matter of time before they arrived to search the premises, but there was no way to truly prepare herself for their visit. Would the locked door actually slow them down at all? She had no idea. But under no circumstance could she allow them to find her sister. "Draco, take your aunt out the back and onto the grounds. Get as far away from the house as you can and stay outside until I come and find you. If you see anyone else out there..." Narcissa sighed heavily. She detested the idea of telling her son to hide from the authorities, particularly when he had done nothing wrong. He was so innocent; why should he be dragged into living like a fugitive? But he was also vastly more level-headed than Bellatrix, who would likely attempt to fight the Aurors rather than hide from them, if left to her own devices. Narcissa trusted her son to be responsible enough to remain safe. "...you know the grounds well enough to find ways to avoid them," she continued.

Draco nodded stiffly. "Fine. But what about you?"

"I can handle them." She had certainly handled worse, though she wasn't about to admit this to him. Narcissa exchanged glances with Bellatrix. "Please," she insisted, "be careful."

"I won't do anything to provoke them, if that's what you mean." Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I'm not a fool, Cissy. I'm not going to draw them to you."

"Of course not," Narcissa said, trying hard not to allow her bitterness to seep into her tone. At another time, she might've tried to explain her opinion on the matter of her sister's foolishness more thoroughly, but when the knocking sounded once more, she knew time was pressing in on the three of them. "Now please hurry."

Without another word, Draco started for the door. Bellatrix followed, mumbling a "Be careful" to her sister under her breath. Narcissa rolled back her shoulders and drew herself up as tall as she could manage, waiting until several moments after the others had left the room before making her way toward the foyer.

_They won't find anything, _she told herself, ignoring the slight trembling that had begun in her hands and now crept upward. _There's nothing left here to find. _She'd removed every dark item she'd found to the family vault until either she managed to find a safer place or the Ministry was satisfied enough to leave the Manor in peace, whichever came first. If Lucius had left anything else dangerous within the house, he'd hidden it so well that even Narcissa couldn't locate it.

She forced all traces of emotion from her face before opening the door to reveal two agitated-looking men wearing badges identifying them as Aurors. Narcissa opened her mouth to offer some form of hollow greeting, but one of the Aurors spoke before the sound could leave her lips.

"We're here by the order of Minister Scrimgeour himself."

Narcissa frowned. "Scrimgeour?" she repeated flatly, refusing the title and therefore the obligation to acknowledge the Head of the Auror Office being promoted to a position of more authority.

"I never thought I'd see the day I knew something about politics before Lucius Malfoy's wife," said the taller of the Aurors, his lips curling into an unpleasant smile.

"Minister Fudge decided he was unequipped to handle the, ah, current _climate_," said the shorter man. "You'll find Minister Scrimgeour is much more prepared to handle any situations that might arise."

There was an edge to these words, and the look the man fixed on Narcissa as he spoke, as though he knew every secret her family had ever kept, was one she found highly unsettling. She wondered how far word of her disobedience while visiting Azkaban had traveled and what exactly these men expected her to do to stop them from searching the house. She said nothing, only arching a brow and waiting for the Aurors to continue.

"We have an order to search the house," said the taller Auror, thrusting a scroll toward Narcissa. She reached for it hesitantly, but before she could grasp the parchment, the Auror pulled it out of her reach and returned it to his pocket. Her gaze hard, Narcissa stepped to the side to allow them entrance, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart.

"I can assure you that you'll find nothing of interest," she said flatly.

"We'll see, won't we?"

Narcissa closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. _Stay calm. They can't possibly make things worse than they already have, can they? _

"Oh," said the short man, and when she felt him pause in front of her, Narcissa opened her eyes warily. "I hope you don't mind—several of our people are already combing the grounds."

Narcissa's stomach lurched. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she prayed they wouldn't notice. "Fine," she snapped, turning away and striding toward Lucius's favorite red chair. She sat and stared out across the foyer, refusing to follow the Aurors with her eyes as they left the room in separate directions.

She'd been sitting still for less than a minute when she heard the first item shatter.

Narcissa bit the inside of her cheek hard, trying not to react otherwise to the sound. She was certain whatever the men had broken had been made of glass, but she didn't dare let herself wonder what it could've been.

As she sat as still as she could manage, her nails biting into her palms and her pulse pounding in her temples, she heard several crashes, a few more instances of what sounded like glass splintering over the floor, and what might've been a shelf being completely overturned.

_They have no right. How can they presume to march in and destroy my home? _

More than once, her reflexes attempted to spur her from her seat and lead her to chase down the offending visitors, but she did not leave the chair. She knew retaliation was what they expected—of course they wanted to goad her into giving them reason to do more than search the house and grounds. If she fought back, this might be enough leverage to lead them to charge her with something, even if they found no evidence of dark magic in the house. Rufus Scrimgeour had never been particularly fond of Lucius, and Narcissa knew the man was likely to do everything in his power to worsen the already-dire situation.

She could almost hear Lucius telling her to hold still and wait for this to pass—_You can't have this baby in Azkaban, _he'd say._ Don't let them rile you._

_Easier said than done, _she thought bitterly.

In order to distract herself, she pulled free the parchment she'd folded tightly and tucked beneath her sleeve at her wrist, unfolding the letter and smoothing it out over her knee. She hadn't let anyone see her reading the letters—Draco didn't need to know that Lucius had been worrying for him and Bellatrix would've laughed at the sentimentality of continuing to correspond, as she hadn't made one attempt to contact Rodolphus since his incarceration—but simply knowing that Lucius's words were present helped Narcissa more than she could describe. The majority of the letters were stowed in her dresser drawer, but she kept the most recent with her to remind herself that all was not completely lost.

* * *

_Narcissa,_

_You should know that you haven't improved at lying. If Draco were 'perfectly fine,' as you say, you would be trying to tell me every detail of what's happening with his friends and whether the Parkinson girl has taken the hint that he isn't interested. Please don't try to spare me—is he acting out because of what's happened? I hope you both know I never meant to harm you like this. I can't ask you to forgive me. That would be seeking too much. But understand that I only ever wanted to protect you both. See how splendidly that's worked? _

_I'm certain you don't need the added strain of my pessimism. I apologize. I've nothing to occupy me apart from my thoughts, which constantly remind me of everything I've done to bring myself here. My thoughts and your letters, that is, and now the photograph. Thank you for giving me a way to see you. _

_It's too cold here. My hand is shaking too much to continue. More soon. _

_Yours always,_

_Lucius x_

* * *

Narcissa tried to ignore the changes in her husband's demeanor evident even in his writing. They'd spoken thousands of times on the matter of blame, and she'd made it clear that she did not hold him responsible for the disaster their lives had become. He'd rarely broached the subject since the time she'd left the table at dinner to avoid it, but now he appeared to have nothing better to do than blame himself. However, her decision to send the photograph had apparently been a good one. If she'd managed to bring him happiness in that horrid place, she could take a small amount of comfort in the idea that she'd done something right.

When she eventually heard footsteps approaching, she folded the letter and stowed it once again within her sleeve, hidden from the prying eyes of the men who had invaded her home.

"All finished," the tall Auror grunted. The set of his mouth was dissatisfied, and Narcissa fought down the urge to smirk. _Of course they didn't find anything. We're safe—_

She froze when she realized what the shorter man was holding. A stack of letters was crushed between his hands, and he was watching her with a raised brow.

"What are you doing with those?" she demanded, rising from her seat at last and taking a step toward the pair.

"Considering they were sent from Azkaban," replied the Auror, "it's protocol for us to examine them."

"That's a filthy lie."

"Lady Malfoy," the man said slowly, an edge to his words that made her want to slap him for daring to speak to her in such a way here, "you can take up your complaints with Minister Scrimgeour. These will be returned to you after we've established that nothing is… out of place."

Narcissa stared at the Aurors for several moments, her rapid breaths shaking her shoulders, and then at last she strode past them, pausing several paces from the front doors and gesturing toward them. "If you're finished," she said coolly.

The men strode toward the doors, the tall one pausing for a moment to look in her direction. "Oh, and, ah… congratulations," he said. He nodded toward her stomach, and while she was left speechless, wondering whether she had started to show or whether they'd found evidence of the baby somewhere in the house, the Aurors departed without another word.

When they'd gone, Narcissa rushed upstairs, begging the gods that the Aurors had left at least one more of the letters behind. _How dare they enter our room? That order from Scrimgeour couldn't have possibly given them permission to—_

She froze on the threshold, the breath knocked from her lungs. Picture frames had been removed from all surfaces and the walls, smashed and strewn over the floor, and the mattress had been overturned and lay amid a disheveled heap of bedclothes on the carpet. One glance at the dresser told her there was no hope for the letters; the drawer had been pulled free and lay on its side beside her chair, completely emptied with its other contents scattered beside it. The book on potions beneficial during pregnancy that she'd been reading rested upside-down on her night table, its pages bent awkwardly beneath the weight of the binding.

_Composure. Don't. Let. Yourself. Slip. _

But as rage at this latest injustice—this violation of privacy and demolition of her attempt to keep the room the same as it had been when Lucius had been here—pulsed through her, she couldn't stop herself from letting out a scream.


End file.
